Help Wanted
by DeenaTweety
Summary: When Pansy gets cast out of the family fold, she has to get a job and figure out how to live on her own. Neville needs to hire someone to help him in his shop. Of course, everyone has an opinion. More inside! Humor, drama, and romance.
1. Sounds like a scandal

**AN:** Okay guys, I'm re-vamping this story before I continue it. There were a few things that bothered me and I'll be making a few changes and editing so this will be better. There won't be huge changes, but there were just a few things bugging me. :) Anyway, don't worry! This AN is just in case anyone was interested. Read on!

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><p>It was one of those well-known secrets that Pansy Parkinson's grandmother (on her mother's side) had a few indiscretions on her record. Even Pansy, despite admittedly idealizing the matriarch, knew that the woman wasn't perfect. But was anyone, really?<p>

Her mum had always seemed generally pretty mild about the subject, too, which was saying something, because if Pansy had inherited anything from her mother, it was her personality. Her mother and grandmother were long gone, of course. Her mother had died before her third year—just from a nasty spell backfire, nothing too dramatic—and her grandmother soon after. It had been so long that Pansy hardly ever thought of them.

Pansy always knew that as soon as you stopped thinking about something, it came to bite you in the ass.

It was morning at breakfast and her father was reading the newspaper, snorting and scoffing like he did when he read something he disagreed with (which was almost everything). Pansy ate and pretended to listen while her father sputtered and began reading aloud.

"Pansy. Pansy!" He exclaimed after a moment. She snapped out of her stupor; she never was a morning person.

"Sorry, Daddy. What?" He cleared his throat and gestured to the fresh stack of mail the owl had delivered just that morning. "Hand me that pile, would you darling?" His voice was kind, but it was spiced with a hint of desperation. She was instantly suspicious. Watching his face closely, she slowly grasped the pile and undid the loose tie around it. He raised an eyebrow.

"The mail?" he asked slowly, extending his hand.

"Just a moment," she replied, shuffling through each envelope deliberately. _There's something in here he doesn't want me to see_, she realized. He always kept things from her, she thought, just a little annoyed. How was she supposed to help him manage the estate while in the dark?

She came across something thick, like a book, with a note glued to it. "From Rita Skeeter? To Pansy Parkinson? What?"

"Pansy, darling, just hand it to me," Mr. Parkinson said, a warning in his voice. Pansy ignored him and opened up the letter.

"'To Miss Parkinson,'" she read aloud, "'in my pursuit of truth I often come across news that is disturbing or disquieting. However, this reporter believes in speaking the truth, and I apologize if this news causes you distress.' What the hell is she talking about?" Pansy mumbled as she opened up the material covering the book. "Huh. '_My Torrid Affair with the Princess of Thimbletwist: The Francois Tumble Story._'"

Pansy's father sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "That conniving Tumble. I'll sue!"

"Sue? For what?" Pansy asked, incredulous. "What does this even have to do with me?"

"Pansy." He slid the newspaper toward her so she could see what had caused him to panic in the first place. There was a picture of a man holding the book; it was undoubtedly the author. He was old, very old, and he was smiling for the cameras and showing off a hardback copy. The title of the article was in bold: **A Tell-All Book by Francois Tumble.** The article was, of course, written by Rita Skeeter herself.

"What do I care about this Francois?" Pansy said, trying and failing to sound dismissive. Her father looked too serious to ignore.

"There were some questions about your mother's birth… In terms of…" He cleared his throat and wiped his brow, "legitimacy." Pansy's brow furrowed. The wheels were turning. "And also… purity of birth."

She was frozen to the spot. Purity of birth? She swiped the article from the table and began to read quickly.

Rita Skeeter's words flooded her mind. _Marie Parkinson nee Thimbletwist's mother, better known as the notorious Pansy Parkinson's grandmother… illicit affair with the muggle-born Francois Tumble… buy this book and learn the true story… a woman torn between love and duty, and chose duty… questions about birth. Is the pureblooded princess of Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, really even pureblooded? And what does this have to do with her Hogwarts scandal on the day Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who? Learn more about this private family, and the girl's ironic history… Ghostwritten by yours truly._

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over Pansy. "Is this true?"

Before her dad could answer, three owls swooped in through the open window. Mr. Parkinson looked at them gravely. "Letters from my side of the family, I presume."

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><p>"Neville, my boy, pour your old Grandmother a cuppa, would you?" Neville Longbottom did just so, and handed his Gran an afghan in the process.<p>

"What did you call me for, Gran? Got another leak in the roof?" Augusta snorted in a most unladylike manner.

"I have a thousand leaks in that damn thing," she said. "You fix one and three more pop up. I think I can live with those. I called you here because I heard something about your shop I don't like."

"What?" Neville sat down on the couch across from her. He was almost always prepared for his grandmother to loan him some constructive criticism whether he fancied it or not, but it was his (unbiased) opinion that his business was running perfectly. It was a beautiful shop, with the most exotic variety of plants and flowers. He always had a customer or two (or thirty) in during open hours, he had the best publicity (being a war hero was a great help), not to mention he was pulling down more money than he knew what to do with.

"You heard me, young man. Your old Granny still knows a thing or two about you, and I'm going to tell you about it."

"Gran," he started, scratching his temples. "I know, I believe you, but I'm actually proud of the shop. Can't you just leave it?" And why couldn't she? He'd bought her new furniture, carpets and even tried to get her out of her old house and into a new one. Of course she'd refused; she'd been raised in this house, raised his father, and then raised him. He could understand it. But he also knew he couldn't bear to hear bad things about his store.

Her eyes seemed to literally flash at his question. She stood up quickly (how, he would never know. She was so _old_) and had her cane in her hand in a flash.

"Gran! I didn't mean to—"

"Now you listen to me, you, you…" She scrunched up her old wrinkled nose. "You proud little snot. You go on and tell an old lady off without even hearing what she has to say. Well here it is, sir. I was going to say that you need hired help."

Neville fell like a tool. Was that all? "Gran, what do you mean? I don't need any help. I can do it all myself."

"When was the last time you came to visit me like this?" She asked, gingerly settling back down on her settee. He frowned. A month? Two? Oh no… "And when was the last time you went drinking with your friends?" He flushed. He wasn't sure he wanted his grandmother to know that he did things like that. But she did seem to know everything.

"I can't even remember."

"And how about the last time you saw a girl?" Oh boy. _Here she goes_. "I want a grandbaby, Neville."

"Ah, I am your grandbaby," he reminded her.

"Great grandbaby!" she proclaimed, not missing a beat. "Oh, to hear the pattering of footsteps in this house again. My boy, you had better start soon. I won't be alive forever!"

Neville snorted. She'd outlive everyone. "Gran, I'm twenty-five. I don't want a baby now! And, and where would I find time to date? I'm running a business alone—" _Ooh, she's got me!_

She was grinning ear to ear. She'd caught him in a web of… some kind of twisted logic, and there would be no more argument without insistence on one or the other. Hire help, or have a baby. It was an easy choice.

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><p>That night, Henry Parkinson sat alone at his dinner table. He was still getting owls from old family members, telling him this or that about Pansy's blood purity and her mother's birth. He'd known about the scandal, of course. Marie had told him all about it before their union in an attempt to opt out of the arranged marriage. He hadn't really cared, because he was rather fond of her (not quite in love yet) and there was no way to prove or disprove any claims as it was.<p>

Poor Pansy. He'd hoped that he'd never have to tell her. That maybe this secret would die when he did. He heaved a sigh. The girl had locked herself in her room all day, ignoring all attempts to draw her out. He supposed he'd have to call one or two of her friends to spend time with her.

In the meantime, he had to make a decision. In a letter, his own mother (who, as old as she was, just _wouldn't die_ and leave him that money) had outlined an ultimatum: disown Pansy and inherit millions, or keep her and live in poverty. This was all planted very nicely among a garden of slanders against his late wife and her family and shock that he'd "marry the daughter of such a woman!"

He really didn't want to choose between money and Pansy. Of course, he supposed, that was what an ultimatum was, really. You weren't supposed to _like_ it. So his mind set to work. He certainly wouldn't disown Pansy. And he had no intention of losing the inheritance he'd worked so long to keep.

He worked long into the night to find a solution.

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><p>"I'm a what?" Pansy wasn't really sure she'd heard her father right. "No, Daddy! I don't want to!"<p>

"There really is no alternative, my dear." Pansy stomped her foot on the ground, unable to do anything else.

"You should be willing to stick by me!" She was barely aware of her voice reaching a higher octave. "Grandma can sod of, for all I care! That crazy old bint. I'm a pureblood, I know it, and she knows it."

Mr. Parkinson tugged at his mustache while he waited for Pansy to simmer down. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "Pansy, do you like the way we are living right now?" She didn't answer. He continued, "Think of it this way my dear. If you and I, say, have a falling out due to this horrendous news, I could cast you right out into the street."

"Daddy, no—" He held up a hand and she fell silent.

"Then you know it's only a matter of waiting until your grandmother passes away. The control of the entire estate is passed to me. Wouldn't you like that Pansy? Then, at a proper time, you and I can have a public reconciliation. You would be back in the Parkinson fold, just like that."

"Very shrewd, Father," she snapped, "but what about in between? And who knows how long that old hag is going to stay alive?"

"I'm afraid it's the only option, my pet." Tears sprang to her eyes. She was prideful, yes, but not stupid enough to forget that she made no income on her own. Her father supported her entirely. How was she going to live?

"Now, now! No tears, Pansy Parkinson." She sniffled and looked up at him. "As I told you earlier, there is a way for me to funnel you some money in the process. Gran will be watching my money, but if your funds are listed as a charitable cause I can give you a little bit each month without suspicion." Not to mention there would be a nice tax write-off, but he didn't think now was a good time to bring that up.

"Where will I live?" He leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

She would have to find out on her own.

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><p><strong>AN: **Whew! Guys, this was so much freaking fun to write. I hope you like it as much as I do! And remember, reviews are the only thing keeping me alive. I want you to review or PM me and tell me what you like or dislike about this story so far! And as always, I'm open to suggestions. I love when you message me with your ideas! 3

Thank you for reading (and reviewing?)!


	2. Some female company?

**A/N: **Hey guys, how are you? Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews! I love them! Keep em coming please. ;)

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><p>When Pansy was in distress, there was always one place she could run to: the Malfoy Manor. The moment she'd arrived through the floo, Mrs. Malfoy was already standing there as if she'd been expecting her.<p>

The sun shone through the windows of the sitting room, burning Pansy's sensitive eyes as the curtains were drawn open. Her sniffles and sobs had finally died down and she was able to tell Narcissa and Draco the events of the day. She didn't miss Draco folding the newspaper he'd been holding so she couldn't see the cover.

"Pansy, you are _so_dramatic," Draco sighed. "Of course you're not homeless; don't even pretend you ever will be." Pansy huffed and wiped her red-rimmed eyes.

"My sweet, you will always have a place here with us," Narcissa Malfoy said pleasantly, handing Pansy a cup of tea. "You can even have your own permanent room here."

"You are so kind, Mrs. Malfoy," Pansy sniffed. "As always."

"Think nothing of it. Of course, it will be so nice to have a girl around the manor, don't you think Draco?" Draco snorted. Narcissa never skipped a beat. "You do know that your father is under so much pressure from his family, Pansy. But believe me, he would never, ever, do anything to hurt you."

"He put me out! Out of my own house," Pansy said, her voice sliding up an octave higher than usual. "He's gone mad, just because that stupid woman threatened to disinherit him. Don't you think family should take higher priority than money?"

"Think clearly, Pansy," Draco interjected. "You father hasn't had to do a day of real work in his whole life." Pansy was about to object, but he went on. "Could you imagine him trying to make a living with his experience? Working at a low-end book shop or something, trying to pay rent and support your high-maintenance arse—er, self?"

"Draco!" his mother admonished for the swear. "Pansy, my dear, you can just stay with us. Draco, as you must be able to tell, is in need of some female company. Just listen to him swearing. It's all I ever hear lately, but I imagine that if he spent time with a more delicate friend," she pointed a look at Draco, whose face was turning a deep shade of red, "he may regain some of his manners. You two always bring out the best in each other."

Pansy simply smiled and took a sip of tea, secretly and intensely disagreeing with every word the older woman said. It was obvious that Narcissa wanted Draco and her to fall in love, it had been that way since they had first begun to grow close all those years ago in Hogwarts. But that ship had sailed and sunk quite brilliantly.

"I'll be going to my drawing room," the matriarch said with a sigh. "I had better go check on your father, too. Have a good afternoon, you two, and take your time getting settled. Draco, you must help Pansy up to her room."

The woman was rushing out so Draco had to call out to her, "Where is her room?"

"Right next to yours!" She said before the door shut.

A moment passed before Pansy cleared her throat. "Well, that was…"

"Brilliantly awkward," Draco said quickly. "You have no idea how bad it's been, Pans. She talks about you constantly these days. I can't take it anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she responded quickly. "I didn't know it was so miserable to talk about me."

"Oh, Merlin, it isn't that!" He waved his hands and stood up to shove his hands in his pockets and pace. "The woman sings praises to you, it's literally _all_ she talks about. She's going to try and get us to marry or something, and that," he pointed a finger at no one, "is never going to happen."

"I'd rather marry a troll," she quipped, stung. It wasn't like she was in love with him or anything, but it didn't feel good to hear someone talk about marrying her with such… strong objections.

"Likewise," he said, and she had to fight her hardest not stand up and stomp on his foot.

Instead she said, "Sit down. I hate when you pace like that, it makes me nervous." He sighed and sat. "Don't worry, I'm not going to stay here too long anyway." She sighed and tried to sip her tea, only to find it was all gone. She'd been guzzling the stuff lately.

"Oh, Pansy," he said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. You can stay with us, of course. Come on, everyone likes you. Even Father acts more civil when you're around."

"It's not that," Pansy said, fresh tears escaping her eyes into a tissue. "I just… I don't know. I've been thinking… and I really don't know what it's like to be on my own. I've been thinking about it, even before all this."

"Pansy, you don't have to be on your own. You have connections and family money. Well, not until your grandmother dies, but you know." He leaned back and crossed his arms. "You're one of the lucky ones. You'll never have to work."

She shrugged. She disagreed, but she didn't know why. He had a valid point, so she didn't know how to argue with him. "I just think I'd like to see if I can do it."

He ran his hand through slick blond hair. "I don't know, Pansy. It's worth a shot. You would probably have more privacy if you could find your own flat." His tone didn't fool her for a second and she felt like laughing, which was funny considering her circumstances.

"You mean _you_ could have some more privacy," she said with a smile. "I know why you've been swearing so much lately. Astoria is such a bad influence."

"Don't even go there, Parkinson," he warned. "She is not a bad influence, although Mother certainly seems to think so."

"The girl drinks like a fish, smokes like a chimney and swears like a sailor, of course she's a terrible influence. Not to say that I'm not fond of her," she added quickly when she saw he was going to shut her down. "She's fun to be around."

"Whatever. So where would you stay? Have you even looked for a place yet?"

"I'll stay with you until I find somewhere, alright?" she asked. "A job and a flat. I think I can accomplish those two little things."

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><p>It turned out that a flat was impossible to get without a job. And a job was nearly impossible to obtain without graduating from school (which hadn't exactly been a priority for Pansy in her seventh year). On top of that, no one who read the <em>Prophet<em> was ever going to hire the girl who tried to sell Harry Potter down the river just eight years ago.

_I'll probably never live that one down_, she thought with a wrinkled nose. It was a sunny Thursday afternoon. She'd kept Draco and Astoria company (without Narcissa's knowledge. Pansy felt slightly guilty for letting her only mother figure believe she was alone with him) and the three had begun a walk in Diagon Alley.

"You two go ahead," she'd told them just a few minutes before. She wanted to walk slowly, and she felt like a third wheel anyway. She sighed and looked at the street. There were a few people out but there weren't crowds of people like usual, and Pansy liked it. She figured that on an early summer day like this, people would want to go out to the countryside, not to a dusty old alley.

Draco and the lovely girl were walking just a few yards ahead of her, looking through the glass windows of the stores. The sun beamed brilliantly down on the two of them, illuminating their blond heads. Pansy sighed and watched them. Astoria was such a pretty girl, with her golden curls and blue eyes. Her eyelashes were so thick and natural that Pansy doubted she wore make-up or used a glamour. Draco himself was also pretty, in the way that a boy could be sometimes, and she knew that there really was no other way to describe him. They were a good couple.

Pansy almost felt plain compared to them. She knew that her long brown hair and brown eyes were nothing special, and that her nose was pushed up a little (_like a pig's_, she thought woefully) but she did try her hardest in the morning. Her hips were a little too wide in her opinion, and her breasts were too small, which was the reason, she assumed, no one ever asked her on dates these days. There could be other reasons, she thought despondently, but she really didn't want to think about it.

Oh Merlin, she needed to steer herself away from this type of thinking. She was just feeling frumpy today, that was all. With a breath she looked into one of the windows of the shops to see her reflection. She wiped some sweat from her forehead and fluffed her flat hair until she was satisfied.

Looking up, she noticed that Draco and Astoria had disappeared. "Oh…" she muttered, looking around. She didn't see the couple anywhere, but something else did catch her eye.

_Longbottom's Botany_. Longbottom? As in Neville Longbottom from school? There was no way, she thought. They were only in their mid-twenties, how had he started his own business? It must be a different Longbottom… but really, how common was a surname like that?

With another look-around, she crossed the street to the shop. It was quite empty, except for one or two people inside. A fresh, botanical aroma wafted out the entrance and Pansy sighed and breathed in deeply. She hadn't even entered yet and she liked it. She looked in through a window and saw the shape of a man picking something up.

Wiping the window a little with her hand, she looked in closer; he was picking up a huge pot with some wriggling plant inside it. The man's face was obscured, but his arms were showing and his sleeves were rolled up so she could appreciate the muscles moving underneath the skin. She felt a low, embarrassed laugh coming up in her chest and she couldn't help but crack a guilty smile.

Finally, the mystery man set down the pot and she could see his face. He wiped his hands on his apron and smiled at whoever was in there with him, shaking a customer's hand. His eyes swiveled to meet hers and at that instant she knew.

It was Neville Longbottom. She gasped and whirled around, her cheeks completely flushed. She couldn't believe it was him. And he'd seen her! As juvenile as it was, she ran down the street away from the shop only to run right into Draco and Astoria.

"Where were you Pansy?" Astoria asked.

"Oh, I think I just lost track of the two of you," she breathed, smoothing her skirt. "I think I'm going to go home now. I just got so tired."

"What are you going to tell my mother?" Draco asked.

"I'll just say… I don't know, that I got tired and you wanted to shop for a few things. I'll see you later. Goodbye, Astoria!"

She rushed home, embarrassed and shaken, the image of Neville's face etched into her brain for the rest of the night.

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><p>Wow, hey guys! I am actually pretty proud of this chapter. I hope you like it as much as I do! Please feel free to leave a review or give me some constructive criticism! I also LOVE hearing your ideas.<p>

AH I edited as best as I could, but I'm sure there are some mistakes here that I missed.

Fun fact, my version of Pansy is based off of the most recent actress that has played her, Scarlet Byrne. She is super pretty, in my opinion! I've noticed that a lot of fics describe her as either blond or black-haired, so I wonder where all of the diversity comes from? Was she blond in the books?

Anyway, please review. :)


	3. Against my better judgement

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Just for your information, I will be working harder to bring you longer chapters faster from now on. Also, I'm thinking that this story has the potential to be getting a leetle-bit steamy so… it could go up to an M-rating? We'll see what happens.

As always, remember to review. I love to hear your ideas/criticisms (or, god forbid—complaints?)!

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><p>Neville felt guiltier than ever that night when Hermione stumbled in through the floo of the shop, looking like (and he would never, <em>ever<em> tell her this) she'd just barely won a fight with a troll. Her hair was everywhere, not in waves like she usually styled it, but literally a curtain of static electricity.

Her eyes were glowing and she looked like she was going to murder him with her bare hands, muggle-style. "Neville. I can't keep doing this. I have a wedding to plan!"

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry, Hermione!" he said, pulling a chair out from under the counter for her to sit. "You can go home, I didn't realize you were so busy…"

"No, no!" she said loudly, waving her hands dramatically and sighing. "I just… oh, you know. One moment I have no help, and the next moment I have a million Weasleys everywhere, saying 'you should do this for your wedding! Do that! It's Weasley _tradition!_' But Grangers have traditions too, damn it!" Neville wasn't really sure what she was talking about anymore, but he just nodded his head in agreement.

"Well, maybe you can just take a break tonight," he said, gathering up his inventory books. "I can get this done. I hate to keep you."

"No, don't worry," the brunette said with a weary smile, taking the books out of his hands and opening them up on the counter. "It's really nothing. I mean, it's actually nice to have a break from the Burrow. My only concern is…"

She trailed off and Neville felt like he had a pretty good idea of what she was going to say. He pre-empted her, "I don't need to hire someone here."

"You're giving me three galleons a night just for balancing your books," she said firmly. "I won't lie, the extra money is nice, but I don't need it. I feel like I'm robbing you blind."

"It's not robbing when I'm paying you," he replied. "You're my friend, you always help me out. Why can't I give you a little extra?" She shook her head and laughed.

"You aren't going to be singing that tune when you go bankrupt because of me, Neville Longbottom." She flipped open one of the books and started writing. "This is the last week I'm going to be doing this. Not because I don't want to, but because I have too much going on right now. Also, I'm starting to feel like an amoral jerk whenever you pay me so much for only a few hours of work."

"It takes me longer than that," Neville said tiredly. "I can't do those numbers for anything." He sighed and pulled himself up on the counter, careful not to knock over any papers.

"You just aren't good at maths," she said distractedly. He watched as she sped through the inventory lists and budgets. "You know, if you hired just one person…"

"I don't need to," he said for what felt like the millionth time. The store ran fine when it was just him, even if it was back-breaking work.

"You're closed every other day," she said, beginning to sound a little irritated. "You can't keep up with customers. Today it looks like you didn't get too busy, but think about when the fall starts."

"What's in the fall?"

"School begins, Neville. Students and parents will be swarming this little place. How are you going to do it alone?"

He didn't have an answer.

"What about the people who have already applied to work here?"

"Interviewing is hard," he said, looking at his hands. "There are a lot of really good people looking for work. But most of them weren't qualified. They don't really even have an interest in Herbology or Botany."

"I understand where you're coming from," she said with a sigh. "It's good that you're picky about who you hire. But maybe—and this is the only time I'll ever tell you this—you should lower your standards just a little bit. Maybe hire someone temporarily, at least for the fall."

Neville wondered if she could be right. If he could just have some help during the summer and fall, he could presumably make it through the rest of the year until he found someone permanent. "Maybe you're right," he muttered. He got up to grab a glass of water for himself, remembering to grab one for his gracious friend.

"Thanks," she murmured as she took a sip. It nearly blew his mind that she could focus on the budgets and talk to him at the same time. "So anyway, Neville, what have you been up to?"

Neville's mind wandered to the image of Pansy Parkinson at the window. "Something strange did happen today, I think."

"Hm?"

"I saw Pansy Parkinson today. You remember her? From Hogwarts?"

The brunette scoffed. "How could I forget? Especially now, with all that rubbish about her in the papers." He had forgotten about that. Remembering that made the image of her at the window seem even stranger (and a little sad) somehow.

"She's been disowned from her family," he mused, wishing he'd read a little closer. He had a bad habit of forgetting things that wound up being relevant later.

"Because she might not be a pureblood. Ironic, huh?" Hermione was making pencil marks as she spoke. "After all that name calling it turns out that she's not so pure. Oh, that was not a nice thing to say," she said instantly. "I can't believe I said that."

"S'alright," he said, watching the water in his glass swirl. "It's understandable. She wasn't very nice in school…"

Hermione laughed. "She was the worst. I think she's made fun of everyone we know at some time or another." Neville smiled, remembering. She had been particularly horrid to him, although so many years had passed and so many more important things had happened that it didn't really matter anymore.

A few hours later, Hermione left, practically swaying on her feet from fatigue.

Later that night, Neville made a resolution to hire someone by the end of the week.

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><p>Pansy found herself in Diagon Alley the next day with Astoria to keep her company. They were weaving in and out of the shops, seeing who was hiring with little luck. Most of the store owners either weren't hiring or just weren't going to hire Pansy.<p>

"We can always try Weasley's Wizards Wheezes," Astoria joked, sitting down on a bench and patting her side for Pansy to sit.

"I'm sure they'd hire me on the spot," the dark haired girl replied, rolling her eyes. The blond took an apple out of her purse and used her wand to split it in half for the two of them.

"Then there's Longbottom's Botany," Astoria said casually, taking a bite. "We haven't been in there yet."

"No, I don't think that would work out very well either," Pansy said (and ugh, it was so weird that she was so shaken by seeing him).

"Oh?" Astoria crossed her legs. "And why not?" Pansy knew Astoria was clever, and that she remembered yesterday when she'd been so eager to leave the Alley after she'd seen the place.

"I know the owner, we don't get along," Pansy said simply. If Astoria thought she was so smart, she could find out more on her own.

"That's unfortunate. Look," she pointed a slender finger as ways down and across the street. Pansy's stomach did a little flip when she saw what her companion was pointing at.

It was Longbottom's Botany.

With a _Help Wanted_ sign hanging in the window.

"They aren't very busy right, Pans. You could go in right now and ask." Pansy felt a renewed sense of desperation. She took another bite of her apple without replying. "Are you sure you don't get along with the owner?"

Oh, she was sure. She could suddenly remember every taunt and every hurtful thing she had ever said to Neville Longbottom (and that was a _lot_ of memories) and she felt her face flush with shame. She was so, so mean to him. She had deliberately targeted him, and in the end… well, she didn't like thinking about it. There really was no use.

"I think he'd laugh me right out of the store," Pansy said. That's what she would do if she were him.

"At the very least, they can't pretend they aren't hiring." Astoria did have a valid point. Pansy wondered what it would be like to work for someone like Neville. He would surely be pleasant, and fair. So Gryffindor. Pansy scrunched up her nose and finished her apple.

"I don't know if I'm that desperate yet."

* * *

><p>It turned out she <em>was<em> that desperate. Pansy found herself in the drawing room at the Malfoy's with Draco standing behind her, a hand on her chair, looking over her shoulder.

"I don't know, Pans. A letter may not be the way to go."

"It's the most professional way I can think of. I can't just show up at his shop like an idiot, asking for a job. It's just unseemly." Also, she didn't know if she could take anymore face-to-face rejection. Job searching was hard, she'd decided. If she was going to get shut down, she was sure that it would be less humiliating in a letter.

"Think of it this way, my dear," he drawled. She rolled her eyes. She hated when he called her that. "Just as you have an easier time asking through a letter, he would have an easier time rejecting you through one. If you ask him face to face, he'll have to look into your sad, sweet eyes and tell you that no, he won't hire you."

"What makes you think you he wouldn't say that to my face?"

"He's the type of man that bows to a woman's every whim." Pansy couldn't help but laugh.

"And you're not?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Absolutely not, Pansy. I make my own way in this world," he replied with a puffed up chest. "I'm my own free agent. No woman is going to tell me what to do."

"Not even Astoria?"

"Don't be silly, of course not!" He was standing up straighter, chest out, one foot on the couch and a huge silly smile on his face. He reminded her now of when they were just children, when they would pretend they were princes and princesses.

"And what about your mother?" she asked, forgetting her letter. "Can she tell you what to do?"

"She especially can't tell me what to do," he said incredulously.

"Is that why you're so forthcoming to her about Astoria?" He let out a breath and quit posing.

"Must you deflate me at every opportunity?"

"Who else will?"

"Finish your letter, you silly thing. You can use my owl once you're done, unless you decide to be a man about it and go there yourself." She gave him a look. "In all seriousness, Pansy, I think going there yourself would make a better impression. He'll give you a chance."

Draco had this habit of giving Harry Potter and his friends a lot of credit, Pansy mused to herself when he left the drawing room. Ever since Potter had testified and kept his family out of Azkaban, Draco never said anything negative about him or those associated with him.

It made sense, she supposed. It was just strange, because after all those years of hearing him vent about "Potty" and "Weasel" and "that bushy-haired mudblood" she would never get used to his solemn respect for the Golden Trio. Pansy had her own opinions, of course, but she knew that Draco would not hear of it.

It wasn't that she didn't like them—she was an adult, and far past petty childhood rivalries. She was just irritated, mostly, at how often she caught site of a gossip magazine detailing the differences between herself and Hermione Granger (_thanks_, Rita Skeeter) or how she couldn't read the newspaper without seeing an article or two about how evil the Malfoys or the Parkinsons were, while running on about how well the families of the "light side" were doing. As if people had woken up one day, looked in the mirror and decided that they were going to do something evil that day. As if some people hadn't just been trying to survive.

She honestly couldn't get started about it. She had too much pent up frustration.

Instead of thinking about it any longer, she channeled her energy into writing the best damn letter she'd ever written.

* * *

><p>It was late when Neville heard a <em>tap-tap-tapping <em>at his window. He'd been mixing soil and compost, which was dirty work, but someone had to do it. He tried to wash his hands off as quickly as possible before the impatient owl broke through his window.

"Wait, wait," he called out as he wiped his hands dry. He opened the window and the bird hopped quickly into the warm atrium. Neville picked a leaf off a plant and presented it to the bird. Its head cocked to the side with interest.

"It's owleaf. Go on, it's like catnip for owls," Neville encouraged. "Just for you." He took notice of the shiny, healthy feathers. Who did this owl belong to?

He took the letter that had been delivered to him and sat down on a stool. Trying to keep the parchment clean, he read to himself.

_To Mr. Neville Longbottom_, it said in neatly printed, feminine strokes. He grinned. This must be a wedding announcement from Ron and Hermione. He opened the envelope carefully so that he could store it away for safekeeping when he was done reading.

He could not have been more surprised when he learned the real nature of the letter.

_Hello, Neville, it's Pansy Parkinson. I'm sure you remember me from school. We were in the same year together. First let me say how happy I am to have found that you are living very well, and that you are running a lucrative business. I have to express my admiration, because I know that it is such hard work._

_Please allow me to get straight to the point. I am in a rather difficult situation right now, as you may or may not have heard. I'm looking for work but I have encountered a few obstacles because I never had the chance to take my NEWTs, and I'm embarrassed to admit that I did not pass my OWLs with flying colors._

_I know this is quite forward, but I would be very much obliged if you would meet me for an interview. Enclosed with this letter is my resume, along with references. I assure you that I have some relevant work experience and a willingness to learn._

_Thank you so much for taking the time to read this letter. I anxiously await your reply._

_Sincerely,_

_Pansy Parkinson_

Neville had never been at such a loss. What in the world? Why would Pansy Parkinson be asking him for a job? He stood and started up the stairs to his apartment, which was conveniently placed above his shop. He heard the owl ruffle its feathers and knew it was following him, wanting some more owleaf. He would deal with that later, but right now, he needed to find last week's _Daily Prophet_.

The owl had begun hooting impatiently by the time he'd found the newspaper. Neville gave the owl some of the herb, just to quiet it. He focused on reading the paper.

It turned out that Pansy's legitimacy was in question and the Parkinson family had publicly ousted her from the fold, the will, and her home. No one really knew where she was staying, but the return address on the envelope told Neville a different story. She was with the Malfoys.

Interesting. He sat down at his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. He paused for a moment, the wheels in his brain turning.

On one hand, Neville could see from her letter and from the newspaper that she was in trouble. It was a shame that her family had disowned her, and, from the looks of it, kicked her out into the street like a stray dog. It was his instinct to try and help other people, and she actually seemed sincere.

On the other hand, he remembered her well—the way she was in school. She was shallow, mean, and bullied everyone he knew. And while the work experience documented on her resume was nothing to sneeze at, she still hadn't graduated from school. She even admitted to getting low scores on her OWLs. Neville knew how it was, though. A lot of students hadn't come back to finish their education after… well, everything had happened.

Neville sighed and leaned back in his chair. He couldn't deny that he was sorely tempted to exact his revenge for all those years of torment in school. He felt that it would be satisfying, and that she probably did deserve it. But he'd always been of the opinion that people who'd survived the war needed to help each other out, support each other. Pansy hadn't been his friend at the time, but could he honestly, in good conscience, ignore her request for help? After all, she only wanted an interview. It wasn't like he _had_ to hire her.

"What could it hurt?" he said out loud, poising his pen on paper.

* * *

><p><em>Miss Parkinson, I would be willing to give you an interview. Are you free at noon this Sunday?<em>

_Neville L._

Pansy laughed, because she'd taken such pains to write a good letter to impress him, and he'd only written back one line. She was so happy that she could barely keep herself from gloating to Draco that the letter had worked.

Mrs. Malfoy looked concerned when she heard the news at dinner.

"My dear, must you really work? You know that we can provide for you here." She seemed hurt, and Pansy felt guilty.

"But Mrs. Malfoy, I can't just live off of your generosity forever. You know I am so grateful for your help, but I couldn't possibly burden you much more."

"You are certainly no burden on us, Pansy," Mr. Malfoy interjected. "We quite enjoy your company."

Pansy smiled and blushed. A compliment from Lucius Malfoy was no small feat, but she couldn't let it distract her from the goal: a job and a flat.

"Thank you," she said, unsure of what to say. She was smart, she knew, but on this matter she simply didn't know how to express herself. Thankfully, Draco was able to pick up her slack.

"I think it's great," he said through half-chewed food. "Pansy wants to know what it's like to work and live on her own. I can respect a woman who can do that." He gave her a smile.

"You know, when I first got out of school, my father allowed me a place of my own," said Narcissa. "It was a great time for me, I felt so independent. Perhaps this is a good thing for our Pansy."

Pansy felt relieved that people were finally seeing things her way, until Mrs. Malfoy continued. "You know, that was right before I got married. Maybe it's good for every young lady to have a place to call her own before marriage, don't you think?"

Draco choked on his food and coughed. "Excuse me," he said, leaving the table and avoiding the pointed looks from his parents. Narcissa laughed politely and gave Pansy a winning smile.

She _had_ to get this job.

* * *

><p>On Sunday morning, Pansy was up early and scrubbing her face, moisturizing, and applying make-up. She had to look perfect. She had to convince Neville Longbottom that she was worth hiring. And while she was probably completely unqualified to work at a plant shop, she was at least going to look good. Maybe that'd be enough to make him hire her.<p>

Pansy ran into Astoria in the hallway when she left her room. "Hey, Pansy!" she said with a smile. "Are you going to your job interview?"

"Yes," she replied. "How do I look?"

"So gorgeous," Astoria said sincerely. "I'd hire you. Is a man going to be interviewing?"

"Yeah."

"You'll get it then. Don't worry." Pansy rolled her eyes and gave Astoria a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Astoria. Are you on the way out?"

"I am. Before anyone catches me. Besides you, of course. Do you want to side-along?" Pansy nodded and held out her arm. With a _pop_, they found themselves in Diagon Alley.

"Good luck!" Astoria said before waving and apparating again. Pansy found herself touched that the younger girl had seen her off to her interview. She hadn't been sure if Astoria considered her a friend, but now she knew that she did.

The Alley was quiet on Sunday. Pansy walked down the street, her heart pounding in her chest. Before she reached Longbottom's Botany, she realized that she'd never been in a job interview before. She'd always just had a job whenever she wanted, given to her by her father. What was the protocol for a job interview?

She checked her watch. She had three minutes. Should she have taken her resume with her? Wait, he already had it. Should she have worn something more professional? Or something more casual, because it was just a regular job? What questions would he ask? What if she didn't know the answers?

No, no, no, she thought, she had to stay calm. What was going on with her? She was Pansy Parkinson. She was confident, connected, collected and calm. She would get whatever she wanted.

* * *

><p>Neville saw Pansy walking across the street to reach the shop. He opened the locked door and waved at her. She shielded her eyes from the sun and waved back.<p>

He realized that the other day he hadn't really taken a good look at her. Now, she was here, close-up, wearing a blue short-sleeve dress with a braided belt around her waist. She had her thick brown hair tied in a bun. She looked so professional, he thought, and here he was in a dirt-covered apron.

Neville held his hand out to her. She gave hers to him, and he took her by surprise by shaking it instead of squeezing gently.

"Hello, Pansy," he said awkwardly. "Come in, I guess."

"Thanks," she said, relieved to feel the cool air hit her face as she came inside.

"It's hot outside, isn't it?" _What a stupid thing to say_, he thought. "Why don't you sit down? Do you want some water?"

"Really?" she seemed surprised at the question. "Yes, I'm so thirsty. Thank you."

She was very courteous, a side of her that was new to Neville. A vicious part of him thought that she was probably only courteous when it suited her. He threw his apron off and poured them both a glass of water. "Here you are," he said as she gave one to her.

"Thank you," she said before taking a long drink. "Sorry. It really is hot outside."

He smiled and grabbed her resume before sitting down. "Take a seat and we'll get started." He watched as she smoothed her skirt behind her and crossed her legs. "So, uh, how have you been?" It seemed the polite thing to say (until he thought about it for a second longer. She was _here_, things couldn't be that swell).

"Oh, um, well, I suppose. Thank you for responding to my letter."

"It was nothing," he said, looking down at her resume but not really reading it. "Alright. Let's get started."

She sat up straight and smoothed her skirt for what seemed like the hundredth time. She was so nervous it was unreal. She knew that she didn't qualify for this job. As carefully as she'd printed her resume, as good as she tried to make herself look, she wasn't qualified for heavy labor.

"Have you ever done manual labor?" was his first question. She looked distraught, and that same nasty part of him rejoiced in her discomfort.

"Well, what do you mean?" She asked after a moment.

"Ah, just imagine planting, replanting, sifting through compost, that sort of thing?"

"Yes, I have done things like that," Pansy said, not really recalling. She was sure that at some point in her life she'd seen compost, whatever that was. He nodded and made a note on her resume. She didn't know what it was, but she was sure it couldn't be that bad.

"Okay. Can you lift at least fifty pounds?" he continued. Fifty pounds. Hm. She did own a very large cat named Whimsy. He was at least twenty-five pounds. She could lift two of him, she was sure.

"Yes," she told him confidently. This interview wasn't going half bad, she thought.

"How about retail experience?" Oh, he'd gotten her there. Well, she was an avid shopper. That _did_ count as retail experience, right?

"Yes, of course," she replied, growing more confident in each white lie.

"Would you mind if I asked what you got on your OWLs in Herbology?"

"Exceeds Expectations," she said, hoping that he wasn't wanting an Outstanding.

Not too terrible, he thought, making a note of it. "Do you have an interest in Herbology at all?" He wished that he could think of a better way to ask that question. A way to get an answer that would show him whether or not they really were interested.

"Um," she started (that was _not_ a good start!), "I am interested in Herbology through Potions. What I mean to say is, I'm really interested in Potions. And potions just rely so heavily on herbs and plants. The quality is so important. So yes, I am interested in Herbology."

That was an interesting way to look at it. And as much as he really did dislike Potions, she was right. He gave her a reassuring smile (why did he do that?) and continued.

"Okay. Well, why are you interested in a job here?"

Oh, how do you answer a question like that? Wasn't it obvious? She needed money! "Because…" Should she just pander to him and tell him of her secret and abiding love for plants? But no, he would know for sure she was lying. He was Gryffindor, not stupid. Well. Those could be one in the same, but still. "Because…" should she just right out tell him she was dirt broke? "Because I'd like to become more financially independent?" It came out more like a question than an answer, but it would have to be good enough.

"Okay," Neville said. She was uncomfortable and he thought it was kind of funny. Not that she was uncomfortable, (well, that terrible part of him liked that for reasons he just didn't want to think about at the moment) but for the fact that he got to see what happened to her after Hogwarts. He'd been in touch with all of his own friends, of course, but he would be lying if he hadn't been curious about her. Especially with all the hubbub about her in the paper.

"One more thing. Do you have any experience with accounting?"

She couldn't believe it! Accounting was her bread and butter! She _lived_ for numbers. She loved the feeling of looking at a flawless inventory sheet, knowing that she'd accounted for everything. Knowing that her numbers were perfect.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. If you'll look on my resume you'll see that I actually shadowed my father's accountant for three years after Hogwarts." She didn't want to mention that the reason she had to do that was because she didn't graduate.

Dear Merlin, she was right. It was right there, references and everything. She was the only one he'd interviewed, he realized, with accounting experience. This was just great! Wait, no. This was… just terrible. How was it that Pansy Parkinson was the only person he'd interviewed who was perfect for the job?

"Is that all?" she asked, leaning to see if she could get a glimpse of his notes. He had a strange look on his face, but she ignored it.

"Yeah," he said after a second, extending his hand to her one last time to say goodbye. "Oh, wait. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Oh, yes," she said, avoiding his hand. She didn't want her arm to get shaken again. For a pureblood, he really didn't know anything about manners. Of course, she'd never say that to him, especially in this position. "When can expect to find out whether I got the job or not?"

"By Tuesday," he said, hoping that he really would have his decision made by then. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. This is a minimum wage position. Of course, the longer you work here the better chance you have of a pay-raise." Her eyebrows rose.

"The better chance of a pay-raise _I_ have?" she asked hopefully. His face flooded with panic.

"I meant, um, I meant that as an umbrella term. Not you-you, but anyone-you…" Oh, Merlin, this was a disaster. Why _had_ he said that? Was he actually considering hiring her?

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, feeling angry. Why had he said that? Given her false hope? What a joke! She stood up calmly and held out her hand first this time, not caring that he was probably going to shake it like she was a man. "Well, please get in touch with me whether I get the position or not. I thank you so very much for seeing me today, I'm sure your schedule is busy."

He shook her hand, as predicted, but she didn't care (she may have even squeezed his hand very very tight, although he didn't seem to notice). "Have a good Sunday, Pansy," he said quietly.

* * *

><p>Pansy spent the rest of the evening thinking about Neville Longbottom, feeling utterly embarrassed. He would never, ever hire someone like her. There had to be plenty of other more qualified people than her applying for that job.<p>

* * *

><p>Neville spent the rest of the evening thinking about Pansy Parkinson, feeling utterly hopeless. He had to hire her, simple as that. There wasn't anyone, not one person, who was even remotely qualified for the job besides her.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **HA! See what I did there? Wow, guys! This was one long chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Also, please give me some feedback. Do you like Pansy so far? I know she seems a little insecure, but it's because she's interviewing for a job for the first time, rather than just having it given to her. Also, I'm having a difficult job writing for Neville. I want to portray him as a more confident adult, but still sensitive. Any advice? Comments? … Praise? ;)


	4. Here's an old shirt

**A/N: **Hey guys! Wow, thanks for all the feedback. I can't tell you how much I love it when you tell me what you like and don't like, and I especially love the PMs I get from you. As always, remember to review!

Oh, and to **Mara**, a reviewer, I wish I could have replied to you and told you how good your reviews made me feel! :) Ah I am so motivated!

* * *

><p>Pansy gritted her teeth, teetering on the edge of an all out tantrum, the likes of which had not been seen since she was a child. The paper that was being crushed and crumpled in her hands was a letter from her father, which read:<p>

_My sweet darling Pansy_(as soon as she'd read this saccharine pet name, she'd known it was bad news)_,_

_I'm so sorry for not having contacted you sooner. I have been busy as always, managing your grandmother's estate and attending family meetings. You'll be happy to know that our little public fallout was well received by the family, cousins and all, who thought that they would have to __force__ me to disown you. We beat them to the punch, didn't we darling?_

_I know you must be distraught, but I am very grateful to the Malfoys for allowing you to stay with them. Mark my words, Pansy, stay right where you are. I know you've always had an affinity for Draco, and I encourage you to nurture that relationship. I remember a time when the two of you were inseparable. I am a firm believer that the best marriages stem from friendship._

_I must tell you that I have some serious doubts about the validity of that man's book about your mother's mother. If I were you, I would not worry about him one bit. I have been receiving letters from his lawyers and promptly burning them in the fireplace. If he attempts to contact you, I advise you to do the same._

_Enclosed is an amount of money I have been able to obtain for you. Do buy yourself something pretty, to distract you from your distress._

_Love Always,_

_Your father_

How insulting! Her whole family wanted to disown her? Those conniving… She could hardly think. And then her father had the nerve to encourage her to "nurture her relationship" with Draco. Her father and his mother were surely plotting together. Disgusting!

… But more disturbing was the idea that her family didn't like her. Well, of course they didn't _like_ her… but did they have so little regard for her that they would throw her away over something as trivial as the possibility that she might have an ounce of Muggle blood? She knew that it was probably kind of hypocritical of her to feel this way. After all, she had gone through a phase in her life where she'd really cared about her heritage. _What goes around comes around?_

Also, had her father forgotten about the long nights and days the summer after Draco had told her he didn't want to have a romantic relationship? She was sixteen, and she was crushed. She'd moped around the manor all day, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong. Why would her father think that a relationship would work between them? Had he just… forgotten?

She took a few deep breaths and found that she couldn't calm down. She was angry about every single aspect of that letter. She tucked the galleons her father had enclosed in a bag and threw it at the wall, just to hear the satisfying sound. She picked the bag up and threw it again, hysterical laughter bubbling up from her chest.

* * *

><p>Neville was struggling to get through the work day. Before he'd been told he needed help at the shop by his grandmother and a few other friends, he'd thought he was doing just fine. Harry or Ron would come in all the time to visit and help. Even Luna, when she wasn't busy with her travels, would come in and talk with customers. Now, it seemed like he was bogged down with clients, and he simply couldn't keep up, even with all of the cleaning spells and helpful friends.<p>

But of course, his friends did have lives of their own. While they were a great help to him, they weren't permanent employees. And it also seemed that Longbottom's Botany was becoming the staple store for everyone's Herbology needs. Neville could honestly say, with pride, that he was surprised at the rising popularity of the shop.

At the end of Monday night, he gave in to logic (and, oddly enough, his better sense) and composed a letter to Pansy Parkinson.

* * *

><p>Pansy sighed in relief at the breakfast table. She was holding Neville's note, with no one to keep her company but Draco.<p>

"So he gave you the job? Gryffindors must be more saintly than we originally believed," he quipped, sipping a cup of coffee.

"Must be. We should make a note to always capitalize on it," she replied with a huge grin. "Oh Draco. I'm so happy. I'll be able to move out, finally. Hey, where are your parents today, anyway?"

"Oh, they're off in Romania on vacation."

"I don't remember them mentioning anything about that." She frowned. Not that she wasn't relieved to not have to hear the same thinly veiled hints about her and Draco's non-existent relationship.

"It was a short-notice type of thing, actually. They just got word of a family artifact. They're off to get it, made a vacation out of it. Either way, Astoria's going to come over for the week. It'll be nice not having to sneak her around."

Pansy snorted. "I think that's half the fun for you," she said. "Anyway, you two aren't very good at sneaking. I see Astoria every time I open my bedroom door in the morning."

"Well, we don't care about _you_ seeing. You already know."

"Whatever. Not my problem," she said, taking a sip of her morning tea. "Just don't blame me when your mother finds out. Can you imagine how broken my heart will be?" She smiled. Narcissa would be beside herself.

"Oh, the wasted potential," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly. Marrying you would be like marrying a cousin."

"Thanks?"

"Oh, take the compliment."

"Even your compliments are half-hearted. You're a very unpleasant person." He gave her a smirk and a shrug at the same time. "Do you have this morning's _Prophet_?"

"Do you really want to read it anymore?"

"Surely I can't still be in the front pages."

"Well, if you insist."

To Pansy's surprise, it was her ex-boyfriend, Theo Nott on the front cover. "What?" she murmured to herself. He had a blond bird on his arm and he was giving Rita Skeeter an exclusive interview… about her.

"How in the hell am I so fascinating to her?" Pansy nearly yelled. A nearby house elf jumped and sneezed in surprise.

"Well, it's not the real you that's so interesting, just the fake you she paints in the paper," Draco offered. Pansy nearly threw her muffin at him.

"Can you believe this? Theo says that I'm _crazy_. Ugh!" She read on, despite knowing it would only serve to make her angrier. "I'm not a crazy girlfriend, Draco. I'm not. Oh, and guess what? I'm a baby-hungry lunatic! Listen to this:

_Rita Skeeter: So, Theo, darling. If you had to describe your relationship to Pansy in one word, what would it be?_

_Theodore Nott: (laughs) Uh, that's a tough one. I guess I would say… Insane._

_RS: Oh my! Why would you say that?_

_TN: Well, she wasn't all bad, really. It started out great, but then… you know how those big families operate. She wanted to get married real soon. She even wanted kids. It was all just way too much for me._

_RS: So how was your break-up? Not too messy, I hope!_

_TN: Oh, it was the definition of messy!_

_RS: How long were you together?_

_TN: Hmm... like a year?_

_RS: According to my sources, you were together for a year and a half._

_TN: (laughs) Oh, yeah! I must have been thinking of someone else!"_

She breathed loudly, indignant. It reminded Draco of a dragon. "He's an animal!" She shouted.

Draco shrugged. "I told you you shouldn't read the paper."

"I can't believe…" she stamped her foot on the floor as she stood up. It hurt, it really did. It seemed that Skeeter was determined to dig through all of her old acquaintances and boyfriends and drag her name through the mud.

"Are you jealous of this broad in the picture?" Draco asked casually.

"Not at all. I just can't believe Skeeter," Pansy replied. "Why is she doing this? Isn't the fact that my family has disowned me enough? Or that fact that I have no money? _Or_ that I have to get a real job?" She inhaled, out of breath. "You know what, Draco? I bet she has a scheme."

"Really? You think?" He watched her head swivel completely toward him, giving him an angry stare.

"That woman is insufferable." Pansy huffed. "I need to blow off some steam, Draco. I'm going shopping."

* * *

><p>Wednesday found Neville waiting nervously for his brand new employee. Why he was nervous, he didn't know. <em>She<em> was the one who should be nervous. He threw his apron on and sighed. He would have to find another one for her. She would probably get filthy on her first day. He wondered how the former Slytherin beauty queen would react to having to get her hands dirty.

He heard a loud pop right outside the door of the shop and he knew who it was. He inwardly resolved to be kind to her and give her a chance. Bygones would be bygones, they would get a fresh start and they would be pleasant co-workers. Even if he wasn't her biggest fan. It wasn't like she was his.

He found her just outside the locked glass doors, waving and tapping the glass. He unlocked the door and greeted her before he noticed something wrong.

She was well dressed. Too well dressed.

She was wearing something similar to what she wore in her interview. A light teal dress, and feminine black flats. Her nails were even manicured to a pale pink. Her hair was down and if he wasn't wrong she was wearing a smidge of pink lipstick.

"Hello, Longbottom," she said with a polite smile.

"Hi, Parkinson." He paused, how should he say it? "I'm not sure you're dressed right," he said carefully, hoping she wouldn't take it as an insult. Girls were sensitive about their clothes, he was sure Pansy was no exception.

"Oh." She looked down at herself and smoothed her dress. She'd thought she looked professional. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're going to get dirty today. Your clothes will probably get dirty, too."

She mentally kicked herself. Duh! Why hadn't she thought of that?

"Oh, no," she breathed. "Um, I'm sorry, Longbottom. What should I… I don't know. I can't get this dress dirty. What do I do?" She looked so nervous he almost laughed. This situation was really strange, and he wondered what his fifteen year old self would have said if he told him that Pansy Parkinson would be working for him one day.

He'd probably tell him that he was nuts.

"Do you have anything you don't mind getting dirty or ripped?" he asked, and from the look on her face he guessed the answer was no.

"Um, maybe I have _something,_" she said. "Should I floo home and look?" Oh lord, she thought, panicking. He was going to fire her at the end of the day. She was messing up already.

"Don't worry," he said with an easy smile. "I probably have something upstairs, if it's not a big deal to you."

"Like what?"

"You just hang on down here, I'll go look." He took the stairs two at a time. Thank Merlin there were two hours before opening time. He was right in having her here early.

He unlocked his flat and moved quickly into his room, ruffling through the cluttered closet for a shirt he was alright to part with. There was always an extra red and gold-striped shirt to spare, but he didn't think it would be very nice to her. He was tempted though. He chose a plain blue shirt he barely even knew he had.

"Here," he said to her when he came back. "You can just throw it on over your dress, just to protect it a little." She held the shirt out in front of her and examined it.

"Is it clean?" she asked, seeing a little purple stain on the front.

"Yeah," he said shortly from the now-open storage closet. "Take a look in here. This is the storage closet. The main one, that is." He grabbed a dirt-covered apron and handed it to her. It joined the stained shirt that was folded across her arm. "Here we have shovels, some potting soil, and some seeds. It would be good to memorize which ones are which, just in case. I have only one key right now but I'm sure I can get you a copy soon."

She nodded, trying to take everything in and remember it all. He continued:

"This is just the front room, and there are a ton of plants here. But in the back, we have the atrium. That's where we're going to be growing most of the plants we sell. About ninety percent we grow ourselves. The other ten percent comes from other locations. The more exotic plants, that is. I'll probably take care of the rarer breeds myself, but I'll want your help with most everything else. Remember any Herbology lessons from school?"

Oh, no, no she didn't. She just smiled. "Yeah, some," she said confidently. "I'm sure it'll all come rushing back to me."

"Perfect," he replied, feeling hopeful. Even if he had to teach her a little bit, she might just pull through and impress him. He still kept his optimism in check, though. "I'm going to lock this up. You can go ahead and put those on, and then I'll show you the cash register."

Pansy sighed when he left the front room to go to the small check out area in the other corner of the room. She took a look at the stained shirt and decided to bite the bullet. She pulled the shirt carefully over her pretty dress and felt the soft cotton touch her arms. She tried to ignore the way it smelled (it was certainly not nice or lovely smelling. Not one bit!) and she tied the apron on. It was so big that she had to wrap the strings around one and a half times and tie it in the front. She felt the big ugly pockets and it suddenly occurred to her that someone might see her. Someone she knew.

Well, she would just have to cross her fingers that they wouldn't.

She walked over to where Neville was placing a number of galleons in the cash register. "Ready," she said as cheerfully as possible.

"Alright," he said.

He showed her the cash register and the way to wrap up plants. He gave her a lesson on how to issue a receipt and take and give back money. He showed her the atrium, which was full of more flowers and plants than she had seen in her life, even while she was in school. How had he managed this place single-handedly?

"Do you actually grow all of this yourself?" she asked, amazed.

"Well, my friends have helped me a lot. I have an uncle that comes in when he has spare time, but... yeah, it's mostly just me. It's really not much," he said, wishing he wasn't so pleased by the amazed look on her face. "And of course, charms help me a lot. You can't do everything with magic, especially when it comes to plants. They need a human hand, but it helps to know a few spells to keep things running smoothly."

"Of course," she replied, still astonished. Longbottom had really outdone himself. How was he running a business like this alone? Even with magic, it was incredible that he'd done this all himself. What she saw in the atrium was a sea of green plant life. It was like Diagon Alley wasn't even outside. She knew that most of the shops in the Alley were charmed to look smaller on the outside and bigger on the inside, but it seemed she was in a rainforest. The smell of soil and flowers was refreshing, lovely even. She looked over to him, careful to keep a straight face.

He flashed a modest smile. "So, are you ready to open up?"

* * *

><p>Oh, she was so, so ready for closing time. She kept glancing at the clock. The time seemed to drag slowly by. She was so, so tired and she was stressed and oh Merlin, she was going to cry.<p>

The morning had been nice and slow, but as the day wore on she had to plant and replant flowers and herbs. She had to check out customers, who were just so horribly rude and awful, and she had to answer stupid questions that she didn't know the answer to. Was this what working was really like? People coming in and out of the store, thinking they were better than you just because they had money to buy something?

Her fingers were aching and there was dirt caked under her nails. Her dress had been partly protected by the shirt Neville had loaned her but it had still gotten dirty anyway. Her hair was a hot mess because she hadn't even had time during the day to charm it pretty again. She was certain that her face was even smudged with dirt.

Neville had barely even been helpful. Sure, he'd saved her multiple times when she messed up at the register, or when she didn't know the answer to a question.

Okay, so maybe he had been extremely helpful. But she really needed to be angry at something right now, and Longbottom was the closest person around. But she couldn't even be rude to him, because he was the one who paid her.

Bollocks!

* * *

><p>Finally, the last customer was gone. It was seven o'clock by now and the sun was just barely starting to set.<p>

She would finally get to go home.

Neville found Pansy behind the register, holding a mirror compact in her hand and looking horrified. Well, he had to admit, she did look a mess. There was dirt all over her face and in her hair, and her apron was as good as smeared all over with soil.

"How was your first day?" he asked politely, handing her a damp towel. She snatched it out of his hand and rubbed it all over her face. Well, he'd originally meant the towel for her hands, but okay. He just wouldn't mention that he'd already used it on his own.

"It was…" she picked under her fingernails and bit her lip. "Um, it was great. I had fun."

"Really?" he asked, surprised. She'd looked miserable from about two o'clock on. She was probably lying, he figured. She looked dead tired.

"Yeah, I learned a lot," she said, her voice suddenly getting a little hoarse. She felt a painful lump in her throat and she felt like her head was going to explode. Oh no. Was she about to cry?

"That's good," Neville said, oblivious to her predicament. "You did alright for your first day. Hey, you can keep that shirt if you like, I have a ton others just for working. I won't miss it. You can keep the apron, too."

_What is wrong with you, Parkinson?_ Her mind screamed. The more she thought about how horrendous her day was, the closer she was to crying. She kept she damp towel close to her face, ready to catch any little tears if they squeezed themselves out against her will. She needed to leave, _now_.

"Well, I guess now that all the customers are gone I'll be going home, now," she said, her voice shaking. She couldn't cry in front of Neville Longbottom. Absolutely not.

"Oh, not yet, actually," Neville said. "We need to clean up in here, do some watering and balance the books."

He didn't realize what was going on before it was too late. It was as if it were happening in slow motion. Pansy's big eyes watered up and her face turned to a grimace. Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks and she covered her eyes with the towel as she let out big sobs.

Neville froze, trying to remember if he'd done something on accident to hurt her. Maybe he'd knocked something over on her or stepped on her foot? Was that why she was crying? Or maybe he'd said something to her during the day that hurt her feelings? Finally, he was able to speak.

"Oh Merlin, Parkinson, what's wrong?" The question came out harsher than he had intended and spurred a new round of tears.

"I…" she tried to speak but she couldn't. Once she started crying, she knew she couldn't stop until it was all done. And she looked so ugly when she cried!

That thought made her cry a little more.

Neville did the only thing he could think of and ran to the sink to get her a glass of water. He offered it to her and she reached one hand out to take it, and used the other to soak up her tears with the towel.

"Did I say something?" Neville asked lamely, not knowing what to do with himself.

"No!" she cried, wiping her out-of-control tears away. "You didn't. I'm so…" She sniffed. "Can I blow my nose in this?"

He nodded and she hid her face while she did it, incredibly embarrassed. "Longbottom. I'm sorry. I must look so stupid right now," she said angrily, folding the towel up neatly in her lap and wiping her nose with it delicately.

"No, it's okay," he said, shaking his head. He couldn't stand to watch girls cry. He guessed that sentiment even extended to Pansy Parkinson. "I'm sorry. Are you sure I didn't say something?" He couldn't help but feel that he'd done something wrong.

"No," she said. "It's just… Work is… _hard_!" She buried her face in her hands. "I'm so stressed out. And I can't believe I'm crying in front of you!" She wiped her nose and looked at him.

"I don't mind," he said quickly. "It's alright."

"It's just… I wanted to get a job so badly. But I didn't think it would be so difficult." This, Neville could believe. Parkinson had probably never had a real job before. At least one that her father hadn't scored for her, one where she actually had to do work rather than deal with people who had to be nice to her.

"It'll get easier," he said, wondering if he should pat her on the back or something. He decided not to. Too weird. "Anyway, it'll only take an hour or two for us to get wrapped up."

"Okay," she breathed, standing up and tucking the towel into her apron pocket. Neville gave her a kind smile and pulled a large book out from under the counter.

"Here's the budget and the inventories," he said lightly, hoping not to stress her out. "You can just sit and do these while I clean up. I'll teach you how to close up tomorrow night."

She felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. "Okay," she said, placing her hands on the book and opening it.

When Neville was out of the front room and in the atrium, Pansy tried to forget her embarrassment and focus on the book. There were two different handwritings on the pages, one she was sure was Neville's, and the other (which was much neater) she didn't know.

She breathed in and began. She found herself immersed in the numbers, finding mistakes and correcting them, applying new numbers and subtracting ones that didn't matter. In a small matter of time she finished for the current day.

She closed the book and looked up. It was totally dark outside now. She could hear Longbottom doing something in the back room and stood to see what he was up to and to let him know she was done.

She found him on a ladder watering a plant that was hanging from the tall ceiling.

"Longbottom?" she called gently, not wanting to scare him off the ladder. A small part of her thought it would be kind of funny, but that was just probably just because she had a strange sense of humor.

"Yes?" he called back down to her. When he was done watering, he climbed down the ladder and took a look at her. "Are you done already?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Um, you might want to take a look at it. But I'm pretty sure it's all wrapped up."

"Okay," he said, wiping his forehead. "You can go home now, if you want. I'll just have you help me tomorrow night."

"Thanks," she said. _Tomorrow night_. That meant she had survived her first day of work. With Neville Longbottom as her boss. And he was letting her come back the next day, even though she'd just had a nervous breakdown right in front of him.

Neville Longbottom was either incredibly kind, or just mentally unstable.

"See you tomorrow morning," he called to her right before she apparated.

* * *

><p>It was eleven at night when Neville flooed over to the Burrow to see Hermione. She and Harry and Ginny were still awake, while Ron was fast asleep on the couch, snoring.<p>

"Neville, don't tell me that's your shop book in your hands there," Hermione said dangerously.

"Uh, yeah, it is, actually," Neville replied cautiously. "Don't worry, I don't want you to balance the book."

"Then what in the world are you going to have me do?" she sighed. Harry gave Neville a friendly wave from Ginny's side.

"Don't worry about her, she's just crabby lately," Ginny said with a smile. Hermione sent her a death glare but the redhead seemed unfazed.

"Oh, Hermione," Neville said. "This isn't anything major, just a tiny favor. Could you just look and see if these numbers are right?"

"Oh, did you do them yourself this time, Neville?" Hermione asked, looking pleased. She held her hand out and took the book.

"No, not this time," he said with a grin, looking at Harry and Ginny. They looked nice, he thought. And Ron, well, he was just Ron. The ginger boy rolled over on the couch and snored a little.

Hermione's face scrunched up in concentration as she studied the numbers. "Oh, these are good numbers. They even corrected a mistake I made the other day."

Neville was a little shocked at that. Pansy had gone all the way back in the book to correct mistakes?

"Wow, these look fine," Hermione said, closing the book up. "Who did your budget today? Oh, I bet you finally hired someone new! Who is it? Anyone we know?"

"Oh, good job, Neville," Ginny exclaimed. "Look at you, stimulating the economy, creating jobs. I thought the day would never come."

Neville paused. He hadn't told his friends who he'd decided on hiring. They probably wouldn't react very well. "Er, just an old classmate," he said, trying to seem passive. He really didn't want to talk about it at the moment, because he knew that Pansy was a sore spot for just about everyone in the room.

"Oh. Well we'll meet 'em soon enough anyway," said Harry. "Glad you finally hired someone! But I'd still like to come round every once in a while to help you out." Harry yawned and stretched out. "Either way, I'm off to bed. Good to see you Neville."

"I'd better get going myself," Neville said quickly. "Early morning tomorrow. Thanks for looking at this for me, Hermione. Good to see ya, Ginny." He got a hug from both of the girls goodbye and Harry nodded.

Neville looked down at Ron and laughed. "Good night, Ron," he laughed before jumping into the floo.

Ron smiled, his eyes still shut. "G'night, Nev…" he mumbled happily.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Wow, have I been industrious or what?

Ha, joking. But hey, I pumped out another chapter, people! Am I having fun with this story or what? I'm really enjoying all these subplots! The Draco/Astoria thing, Narcissa and Pansy's dad trying to hook up Pansy and Draco, and Rita Skeeter being… herself.

I can't wait to get deeper into this story. But first, I'm going to do a little damage control. I know that it might seem like Pansy is a little weird in this chapter, because of all the crying. But I think this makes sense because, think: how did you feel after the first day of your first job? I know I felt terrible, and I sure cried when the day was over (well, I was a waitress, so it makes sense). Imagine a person like Pansy, who's pretty much been given everything to her on a silver platter. I think it's realistic that she would cry, especially since she is dealing with so much at the same time.

Also, poor Neville is just trying to be nice to her because he is just naturally a sweetheart, even if Pansy isn't his favorite person (yet!).

Alright! I can't wait to see where this story takes us. I'm having a ton of fun, and I hope you are too!

Please review! I want you guys to give me your thoughts. Am I doing good so far? Like it? Hate it? What do you want to happen in this story?


	5. Bath time love stories

The next day, Pansy didn't expect to wake up so sore. It was six in the morning and she wondered if she had time for a soak.

No.

She sighed and slipped on a pair of brown trousers and a white shirt. She didn't look classy at all, she thought with a frown, but she knew that nothing short of house elf magic would get those stains out of her pretty dress. _One of her favorites, too!_

She tied her hair up in a sloppy bun and went in search of her apron. She'd given it (and Neville's old shirt) to the Malfoy's house elves to clean before she'd crashed into bed the previous night. When she found it she threw it in a purse and slung it over her shoulder. She would keep Neville's shirt in case she needed more disposable clothes, she decided. Although she wouldn't know where in her wardrobe it could possibly fit. When she saw it hanging in her closet next to her other clothes, it just looked wrong.

She sighed and apparated to Longbottom's Botany.

* * *

><p>When Pansy arrived at the shop, Neville saw that she was much better dressed. Her hair was out of the way and although she still looked very nice in her brown pants, he was sure that it was the closest someone like her could get to "grungy".<p>

"Good morning, Parkinson," he said to her, wiping his hands of dirt before grabbing his cup of coffee and taking a sip.

"Morning," she said, staring at his dirty hands. "Have you been up?"

"Yeah, just for an hour or so," he replied. "Coffee?" She scrunched her nose and shook her head.

"I'm more of a tea person." She couldn't believe he'd been up since five. It was hard enough for her to imagine waking up at six, but she was only able to because she'd fallen asleep so early last night.

"I have some of that too," he said with a smile.

"Don't worry, I've had some already. I'll probably go get more during my break."

"Sure." He just sipped more of his sugared-and-creamed coffee. She probably just didn't trust him to brew a proper pot of tea, but he wasn't going to do more than he had to. "By the way. You did a good job yesterday. Are you feeling better today?"

Her face flushed and he wished he'd thought that out better. What he'd thought would be friendly concern had probably only served to embarrass her.

"I'm better, thanks," she said, pulling some loose strands of hair back into their clip. "Um, what should I do right now?"

"I was just busy in the atrium. I thought we'd go through this morning and I'll teach you all of the plants in there and how to care for them." She followed him into the greenhouse and he pointed out each and every plant, herb, and flower. She said their names out loud and mentally filed each one away. She was sure that she would have everything memorized after a few days. She would get the hang of this eventually.

He had her climb the ladder up to the ceiling and water a few plants while he tended to some of the ones below. Occasionally she'd ask him a question about what function which herb served, but she found that she remembered a few from her Hogwarts days. All in all, the second day of work wasn't too dreadful.

At the end of the day she finished balancing the books and washed her hands at the sink.

"So, Longbottom," she said casually as she wiped her hands. "I was just curious. When do I get paid?" The question was innocent enough but he couldn't help but feel suspicious. The real truth was that while Pansy had turned out to be pleasant enough, he still didn't completely trust her. Even without their rocky past, she was still as good as a stranger.

And with their history… well, he could honestly say that he'd had a few moments over the past few days where he seriously wondered where his sense had gone.

"You get paid every two weeks," he said as pleasantly as possible.

"Oh, okay," she replied. "I was also wondering, just because I've never looked. How much does a flat cost?"

Okay, that was a surprise. Why would Parkinson need a flat? "Aren't you staying with the Malfoys?" he asked, leaning up against the counter and taking a good look at her. She was covered in dirt and picking at her fingernails.

"Yes, for now," Pansy said, really focusing on a stubborn piece of dirt. She gave up and sighed. "I want to move out though. On my own." He detected a hint of wonder in that last sentence. It seemed that the week was full of surprises.

"Um, I think the cheaper ones run around forty to fifty galleons," he said, thinking. His own flat was free, but that was just because there was a small complex on the upstairs level of the building the shop was in. It was his store, and then a set of stairs that ran into a small hallway of three apartments. At the moment he was only occupying one, but it had occurred to him once or twice that he could rent some of them out. He just never had the time to fix them up.

"Oh. That's not too bad then, is it?" She looked genuine in that statement and Neville frowned. It must be strange to grow up in such excess that forty galleons didn't seem like a big deal.

"No, that's actually on the lower end of the spectrum, and it's still expensive." Pansy laughed a little. She could certainly believe that that was a low price, but she didn't get why Neville was so serious.

"It must be easy to pay rent, then, right?" she went on. "If you work full time, like me, for example. And if I get paid every two weeks then I'll be getting around 45 galleons a pop, right?" Neville nodded. "So you can just use one paycheck to pay your rent, and then do whatever you want with your next."

Neville's eye widened. She was serious. For someone that was so talented at budgeting a business, she had no idea how to budget for herself. "Okay… then what about food?"

"Oh. Well, you could just use your other check to cover that."

"It's at least twenty for food every month," he said, shaking his head.

"Wait. At least?" She'd never gone shopping for food before, outside of grabbing a meal from a restaurant. "That's too expensive!" This was so unfair. How could food cost _that much_? "What about if you just eat out?"

"That's about three times more," he said incredulously. "And you also have to think about water and plumbing. And trash pick-up. And then what about emergencies?" He said, somewhat relishing in scaring her.

Pansy tapped her nails on the counter nervously. "I can't afford that," she said, and then wondered at the fact that it was probably the first time those words had ever passed her lips. Neville was even a little surprised. "Oh. I'm never escaping the Malfoys," she sighed, placing both hands on either side of her head.

"Escaping?"

She studied him. She guessed that it wouldn't do any harm to tell Longbottom the story; it wasn't like anything in her life was a big secret these days. He looked interested enough. "They are so good to me. But it's so obvious that Draco's mother is trying to get Draco and I to… date, or something."

"I actually kind of thought the two of you dated in Hogwarts," he said, trying to sound blasé about it. He felt kind of awkward pulling up facts from such a long time ago, when the two of them hadn't really interacted with each other outside of throwing insulting barbs and jinxes.

Pansy didn't seem to notice his discomfort. She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Well, we dated during fifth year, but it was over that summer." She blushed, thinking about it. She had been such a little idiot back then. "But that's over. Very over. We're just really good friends now. And he's with…" She stopped herself. It would probably not be a good idea to reveal Draco and Astoria to Neville when Narcissa didn't even know they were together. "Someone else."

"Oh," Neville said. The air turned awkward for a moment. Pansy shifted in her chair and a grin came across her face.

"How about you? Did you ever date anyone during school?"

Neville scoffed. "Oh, sure," he said, face flushing. He scratched at his stubble to try and cover up his blush, but Pansy could see right through it. This would be a good conversation.

"No, really. I thought you and Granger had a thing for a while. The way you'd partner up in Potions."

"She was just helping me. I was dreadful in Potions, remember?"

"Yeah." It had been a rhetorical question, but Neville decided not to take it too seriously.

"She was Ron's girl, anyway. I thought everyone knew."

"Really?" That was interesting to Pansy. Of course she knew they were together now, but she felt like she remembered something about him and Lavender Brown. She hadn't been aware of his apparent claim on Granger all throughout school.

"Well, they're getting married soon."

"Yeah, I read the papers," Pansy sighed. "More than I should actually. But you deflected, Longbottom. Did you date anyone in school?"

"Not during school, I wasn't really a hot commodity, no," he said with a laugh. "Was Draco the only boy you dated?" He turned the questioning back on her.

"In school, yeah," she said, her face flushing this time. "But after school ended," (that was always code for 'after the war ended') "I dated Blaise Zabini on and off for a while. And then Theo Nott."

Neville had seen that in the paper, but he wasn't going to mention it. As curious as he was now, he usually didn't believe a word Rita Skeeter wrote.

"Come on, Longbottom, fess up. I told you mine." She was smiling. Pansy was genuinely making at effort at civilized conversation. She hoped he didn't think she was prying. Draco always said she was a pry-er.

"Uh, I dated Luna Lovegood for a little while. Then Hannah Abbott. That's about as long as the list goes." He looked outside at the darkening sky. "Oh, it's getting late," he realized. "You don't have to stick around here, we're pretty much done for the day."

"Okay," she said, realizing her apron was still on. She'd planned on taking it off as soon as she had the opportunity but had forgotten. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah. Have a good one," he said before she apparated home. He sat in the silence for a moment, soaking it in. The shop was clean. The books were balanced. For the second day in a row, everything was completely done in here within a reasonable amount of time. Sure, he still thought Pansy was a sketchy person, and she was definitely spoiled. But he was surprised to discover that she was a hard worker. Even if she was a little inept at anything that had to do with manual labor, she was making an obvious effort to learn.

It was… refreshing? Different? Weird?

He sighed and glanced at his pocket watch. He locked up the store and got ready to visit his Gran.

* * *

><p>Pansy was a little less tired this time, but just as sore. Her arms and legs were aching (and she hadn't even known that her armpits could be sore), but she was <em>finally<em> relaxing. When she'd popped back home, she'd immediately thrown off her sweaty clothes. She hadn't even waited for a house elf to come along to draw a bath, she'd done it herself.

There were soaking salts in the bath tub and bubbles that were working wonders. She sighed happily and dunked her head underwater. She let air run out of her nose in delightful little bubbles. This was heaven.

She kept her eyes closed when she emerged from the bubbly water, wiping her hair back and gasping for air. She wiped extra water out of her eyes. When she finally opened them, she saw a figure sitting on the toilet and let out a scream.

"Oh!" Astoria cried, jumping straight off the loo. "Oh, Pansy, I'm sorry! I thought you'd be fine with my being here!"

"Well maybe if you'd knocked, first!" Pansy yelled, feeling her muscles tense up all over again. "You scared the living daylights out… oh, Astoria, are you crying?"

The blond nodded and sniffled. "I'm sorry, Pansy. I know we don't know each other that well, but… I didn't know who else to go to!"

"Oh…" Pansy felt bad for yelling at the younger girl. "Um… what happened?"

Astoria wiped a few tears with a 'G' embroidered handkerchief. "Well, it's been going on for a while now, you know. Draco won't tell his mother about me."

Pansy could sort of understand why Draco feared telling his mother about his relationship with Astoria. Narcissa was a kind, intelligent woman, but when it came to her son she was irrational. She was very clear in specifying what kind of girl Draco was to marry: a smart, attractive, well-bred lady, with money in the family. Being a pureblood was a plus, but since the war had ended it didn't seem too important anymore.

And while Astoria was definitely a beautiful, smart girl, she was not well-bred in the slightest and her family had lost their fortune long ago. In fact, as far as breeding went, Astoria was notorious for her smoking and drinking, as well as swearing and kissing any boy who asked nicely.

Still, Pansy was inclined to take Astoria's side. "I'll talk to him," Pansy promised her.

"I've already tried," Astoria wailed. "He says it just isn't the right time. But when will it _ever_ be? He just has to tell her, or we'll be sneaking around forever. I hate it!"

Pansy heard a faint _Alohomora_ at the door, and suddenly it swung open. She screamed again.

"Calm down, Pansy, geez," Draco said, shutting the door behind him.

"Draco, _get out_!" Pansy yelled, grabbing a jar of salt and winging it at him. He blocked it with a simple spell from his wand. "Astoria, please listen to me," he said, ignoring Pansy and grasping his girlfriend's hands.

"You have a huge manor! _Why_ must we all congregate in my bathroom?"

"Draco, I can't ignore this anymore," Astoria sniffed. "If you don't tell your mother about us… I have to break up with you."

Pansy sighed. It seemed that her voice was being sucked into a black hole where no one could hear her. She just grabbed a handful of shampoo and started lathering and watched the drama unfold in front of her.

"Astoria, you don't understand. She'd be too angry if we sprung it on her now. If we just wait for a time when she was less high-strung, she would have an easier time swallowing the news."

"I know how these things work, Draco. You'll keep telling me, 'later, later, I'll tell them soon' but you'll just keep it secret forever."

"That's not true!" Draco wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, who was still sitting on the toilet. He was knelt down in front of her and holding her tight. She started crying again and Pansy got the feeling that she shouldn't really be witnessing something this intimate.

Then again, they _had_ just barged in on her in the bathtub.

"I love you, Astoria," Draco said, and Astoria pulled away a little.

"You… love me?" she asked, sniffing. Her make-up was as good as ruined, now, Pansy thought. Wait, was this the first time he was telling her he loved her? She sunk a little lower into the water.

"Yes, I do. More than anything," he proclaimed, pulling her close again. "Since I first saw you."

"Kissing another boy?" Astoria cry-laughed.

"Yes, remember what I said?" Draco asked, pushing wayward strands of blond hair behind her ear.

"That you and the archbishop were probably the only people in Britain that hadn't kissed me," she said, laughing a little through her sobs.

"And then you grabbed my collar and kissed me. That's when I knew I wanted to be with you."

"Oh, Draco!" Astoria threw her arms around him. "I love you too!"

"I promise I'll find a time to tell them. When they get back from their trip, I'll sit my parents down."

Astoria squeezed Draco tighter. "I'm so happy," she sighed. She let go and looked at Pansy. "Thank you, Pansy," she said happily.

The girl in the bathtub jaw felt her jaw drop. Draco moved to let Astoria out of the room and grinned at Pansy.

"Whatever you said to her, Pansy, thanks. Remind me to take you out sometime." He shut the door behind him when he left, and Pansy, wondering if it had all been some stress-induced hallucination, dunked her head underwater to clear her thoughts.

* * *

><p>"I'm so glad to hear you've hired someone, my boy," Augusta Longbottom said over her cup of tea. Neville had coffee, as usual. "Is it a girl?"<p>

"Ha, Gran, why would that matter?" he asked, sitting on his grandmother's old tattered sofa. "And yes, it's girl, whatever that means to you."

"You can't blame a girl for asking! Who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Uh… her name is Pansy." Neville wasn't really sure if Gran knew who Parkinson even was, but if she did, he didn't want to hear it.

"Pansy, like the flower?" He nodded. "That's lovely. Well, I'm glad you've finally taken your Gran's advice. It's about time. Has it been going smoothly?"

"Yeah, she's been great," Neville said, figuring that embellishing the truth wouldn't hurt, especially if it made it seem like he was doing better. "She's a really hard worker. It's only been two days and I feel like there's way more time on my hands."

"Is she pretty?" she asked slyly.

"Oh, Merlin," he sighed. "No, she's a hag."

"Neville Longbottom!" Augusta cried. "You are only saying that to irk me! Shame on you. Now, she wouldn't happen to have any connection to the Pansy that's been in the papers, lately, would she?"

Neville buried his face in his hands. He was in for it now. "How would you know, Gran?"

"Well," she sighed, "there isn't much to do besides read the junk in the paper now that I'm retired."

"I thought you unsubscribed from the _Prophet_ years ago." Neville remembered that from when there had been so much controversy about Harry all those years ago. His grandmother had been furious.

"I get all the other ones, you know. _Witch Weekly. The Quibbler_, of course." She'd gotten a free subscription since his short-lived relationship with Luna a few years back. Luna was very, very kind, he mused. She had an issue of _The Quibbler_sent to just about everybody she was ever friends with, even Draco Malfoy, who didn't seem to share her friendly feelings.

"Well, she's really not all that bad, Gran," he began. Augusta rolled her eyes.

"Oh course not, that Skeeter has it in for everyone. Although I do wonder…" she got a faraway look in her eyes, but soon returned. "Oh, I don't know. You know the last battle was eight years ago? The anniversary is coming up."

"Yeah…" Neville had been vaguely away of that, but he really didn't like to think about it. There would probably be some huge event, and he'd be invited to go. As usual, he would decline. It was always a handful of politicians, trying to woo the war heroes into helping them with elections and re-elections, and companies offering sums of money for endorsements. He would not be a part of it. What a way to honor the deaths of his friends, he thought bitterly. Exploiting their struggles for a little extra cash.

He cleared his throat. "Well, want me to take you out for dinner that day? We'll invite Uncle Avery, it'll be a family event."

"Oh, your uncle," the older woman sighed, placing her hand on her forehead. "That insufferable lush. Sure, why not."

"Well, it's happening whether you like it or not," Neville stated, earning a bristling glance from her.

"I'm not sure whether or not to like the backbone you have, boy," she said with a frown. "Anyway, just floo me beforehand and let this old lady get ready when the date comes. I'll owl your Uncle, I suppose."

"Thanks Gran. I never have much time for that sort of stuff these days." Neville stood and kissed her on the cheek. "I'd better be going now. Later, Gran! Don't forget about the basket of fruit on your table!"

Before she could object to the gift, he was already gone.

* * *

><p>The next day found Pansy working again. She was shoulder-deep in soil, and was just remembering something Blaise had once said to her about fertilizer being made out of animal waste.<p>

"Ugh," she muttered, feeling for the plant she was looking for. This breed of herb only grew deep in the ground, with no sunshine at all. And it was apparently very elusive. She was beginning to wonder if Longbottom had just sent her in here to watch her dig in poop.

"When you find it," he was saying, "be extra gentle with it. If you squeeze it too hard, it'll break apart and blend in with the mush again. Then we'll have to wait three more months for it to grow again. And the Potions professor needs it before then."

"Oh, I was wondering what that was," Pansy grunted, still digging through the soaking wet mud.

"What?"

"I felt something hard and then it crumbled," she said with an evil grin.

"Oh, Merlin, no," Neville sighed.

"Kidding," Pansy said before he could really lose it. And then, finally… "Oh! I think I found it! Feels like… a turnip, right?"

"Yeah, and be careful. Its bite is poisonous." She gasped and let go.

"Are you serious?" she cried.

"Kidding," he said with a laugh. "Not fun, is it?"

"Aw, I let go of it," she moaned, leaning her head gently down in the mud, exhausted from leaning over for so long. She knew she would be filthy, but at the moment she didn't care. "I think I feel it again. You swear it's not poison?"

"Swear," he promised, holding out a velvet bag for her to put it in when she retrieved it. When she finally completed her task, she was hopelessly muddy. She ran to the sink as pieces of mud splattered onto the ground, Neville yelling behind her.

She laughed as she turned on the water and scrubbed her arms clean of the fertilizer. She had to remember to bring some good soap to work one of these days, she thought as she scrubbed with the low quality stuff Neville kept. It totally stripped her skin of moisture! Neville would thank her later, she was sure.

She heard the bell at the door that rang when someone came in and dried her hands as fast as she could so she could see to the customer, but Neville was already on his way over.

"Hey! Ron!" She watched her boss greet the red-haired man. The two grasped hands and pulled each other together in what looked to Pansy like a painful bear hug.

Ronald Weasley. Pansy wondered if there was anywhere to hide, and in her panic the only place she could think of was the mud pit she'd practically just been rolling in. She was not doing that again.

"So I hear you hired someone new, eh?" Ron asked, patting Neville on the back.

"Uh, yeah," Neville said carefully, looking around for her. He'd known that this moment would have come eventually, but he'd hoped that he would have been able to prepare his friends. Damn, he should have just told them the other night! So much for Gryffindor courage, he thought.

"Hermione said she had a _girl's_ handwriting," Ron laughed, elbowing Neville. "We've all been speculating. So, where is she? Oh, Merlin—"

If Pansy had known what headlights were, she would have said she felt like a deer caught in some. Ron Weasley was looking on at her in horror.

"Neville," he said slowly, "are you aware that you hired Pansy Parkinson to work for you at your _business_?"

"Yes, I am," Neville said slowly. He'd known that the reaction wouldn't be good. He mentally kicked himself again for not saying something about her sooner.

"Man, I know that Hermione told you to lower your standards of hire but I don't think she meant _this_ low," Ron said incredulously.

"I'm right here, hello!" Pansy said, stamping her foot. Neville hadn't anticipated this kind of disaster.

"Yes, I see you, Parkinson, and I think you have alotta nerve!" Ron replied.

"Oh,_ excuse me_ for getting a job," she shot back. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Well, I have business here, unlike you," Ron said. "I'm here to pay my dear friend Neville a visit. And you must be here to deliver Neville's dirt!"

Pansy didn't know if that was a barb about how dirty she was or if he was calling her dirt. She had a strong feeling it wasn't the former. "No, nobody can compete with your family in that department," she said, wasting no time with a comeback.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Look at her! Mouthing off to her boss's friends like that! Fire her, Neville!"

Pansy was about to show Ron a very rude gesture when Neville grabbed her hand and shoved it down.

"Now, stop, this is completely out of control!" Neville's voice seemed to boom around the room, shocking both his friend and his employee into silence. "For the love of everything," Neville said, shaking his head at both of them. "Shame on you both."

"But!" Neville shot Ron a meaningful look, and he stopped talking.

"Ron, apologize to Pansy for calling her dirt."

The ginger's face nearly matched his hair. "Sorry, Parkinson," he spat. Pansy stuck her tongue out at him.

"Now Pansy. Apologize to Ron for calling his family dirt."

"I do apologize, Mr. Weasley," she said, feeling her own face burning up with shame. Neville finally let go of her hand and she huffed.

"Good job," Neville said, crossing his arms. "You can go home, Pansy. I'll see you tomorrow."

Pansy made sure to give Ron Weasley the dirtiest look she could muster before disapparating.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Pansy flopped down in bed. She had just taken a long bath, <em>un<em>interrupted this time.

She sighed and pulled the covers aside so she could cool down in the dark. She found her mind wandering to her employer, Neville.

She wanted to stay angry from what had happened earlier in the day. And there was no mistake that she was super angry at Ron Weasley. But she couldn't shake the feeling of Neville's rough hand off her fingers. She knew that he only grabbed her hand to stop her from showing Ron two vulgar little fingers, but she remembered the exact texture of his hand, and it had been extremely distracting from the situation.

It was nice.

Ugh!

She rolled over and stuffed her head under a pillow. She could _not_ be thinking about Neville Longbottom's hands. Ew, gross.

But… they weren't really that bad. She was just overanalyzing her own feelings. It had just been so long since she'd been on a date, let alone held hands with a guy. And it was difficult; to watch two people that were so close to her being desperately in love, so much so that they had to intrude on her bath time just to tell each other.

If she was honest, she was jealous of that love. She'd never even been in love, not truly.

She turned over again and stared at the top of the canopy bed and sighed.

Would it even happen? She'd really only been in a few serious relationships, only three actually, if you counted her and Draco as 'serious'. The end of that relationship had been humiliating and ego-crushing.

After years of flirting, they'd finally gotten together in their fifth year. Draco would hold her hand and kiss her, and it was so nice to have a boyfriend before everyone else because she got to shove it in her housemate's faces when they were being stupid. That, and she was confident that she was in love.

Then, one night, after some heavy snogging, she felt confident, sexy even, and she took her shirt off. Draco had been pretty shocked, but his reaction wasn't altogether terrible. He had actually been pretty into it, as much as any normal fifteen-year old boy would be.

But after that, he avoided her, and then a few weeks later, and the end of term, it was over. That whole summer she'd spent moping and crying and staring at herself in the mirror, wondering if he'd dumped her because she was so ugly.

Of course, they'd reconciled the next year and were best friends again. Draco had told her that he only loved her as a friend, and anyway, he was too busy for a girlfriend. Of course, that was the year he'd taken the Mark, and she didn't have any plans to abandon him when he needed her, anyway. Necessity had ensured that they would always be friends.

Then, after the war, she'd gotten with Blaise. Moody, Italian Blaise, who was honestly just too much for her to handle. He'd been a nice distraction from her court dates, and from the investigations into her life, people trying to figure out if she was a Death Eater or not because of her little stunt right before the Last Battle.

He was a kind person, and a great lover, but besides that their relationship had held no substance. It was just fight, kiss, make up, fight, kiss, make up. And he'd been a little bit too "okay" with her breaking up with him. She supposed she should be grateful that he hadn't dumped her first.

And then there was Theo.

She got angry just thinking about him. That relationship had started out with a lot of hope. He was smart, introverted, a little sexy, even. He was different. But that had gone up in flames the moment she'd said "I love you".

Where he'd gotten all that rubbish he'd told Rita Skeeter, she didn't know. She'd never pressured him to marry her, and she'd certainly never mentioned kids. She didn't really like them very much in the first place. They were dirty, grubby (cute, sweet) little creatures that destroyed everything you own (were just so perfect and innocent).

Okay. So maybe she did like kids. But she couldn't see herself having one now.

She grunted into her pillow. She was not getting any sleep tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Ha! Hey guys. Please read this!

Another eventful chapter! And I even updated in a timely manner!

So, did you enjoy the interaction between Pansy and Ron? Do you all like this little Draco/Astoria subplot I have going here? I hope you're enjoying it. I feel like since we haven't quite reached a point where Neville and Pansy are pining for each other yet, I'd throw you guys a bone. I actually really like it, and all of my subplot bullcrap is actually leading up to a Grande Finale!

Also, I'm just kind of showing Pansy here as a girl who's a little confused about her life. She is trying to be more independent, so of course she's going to be doing a little bit of self-discovery. Also, she's a really insecure person, and I tried to show a little bit of why that is.

And Neville, he's pretty much the opposite. He may have started off as a total nerd in school, but now he's grown up, and he owns a business. He's confident because he's a hard worker and a charitable person. Plus, have you seen pictures of the actor, lately? He is to die for. Delicious!

Also, I have a few questions.

Would anyone be interested in a story about Lavender Brown, by any chance? I think she's a neglected character, and I feel like she could have a lot of depth. If so, who do you think I could pair her up with that would be interesting but not totally off the wall? I mean, I like interesting pairings (well, as you can see) but I'm not up for writing a Lavender/Voldemort type thing. Sorrryyy.

**Is anyone interested in being my beta?** Honestly, I have a difficult time catching every one of my grammar mistakes. So if this writing atrocious, it's just because my brain is about to explode. I think if I had a beta, I'd be more motivated, and I'd also have someone to bounce ideas off of? Any takers?

I'm sorry for my crazy long note. I know I'm rambling but it's just because I'm tired and my brain is just super tired. I'm sure I'll remember some other things I was meaning to say once this is posted, so just… use your imagination?

Review! Please! With any comments or suggestions. I would be sooooo grateful if you would answer some of those questions with a review or a PM. I always love and consider every bit of advice.

Thank you. I love you. :)


	6. The plot thickens

**A/N: **Hey guys! Wow, I was just reading over the last few chapters and noticed some small (but really retarded) grammar issues. Ugh. I am so sorry. I really am smart, I promise. I _do_ know the difference between "where" and "wear". Also, I noticed that in one chapter I said Pansy was sixteen when Draco dumped her, and in the other I said she was fifteen. I think what I was thinking about was that they began dating when they were in fifth year (so they'd be fifteen) and then she'd turn sixteen in the summer. Sorry for that!

Ah I feel super stupid! Speaking of grammar mistakes and continuity errors, I'm still looking for a beta. So if you're up to the job, there are some benefits… like… my undying gratitude?

* * *

><p><strong>Three weeks later…<strong>

_Pansy Marie Parkinson_(she got middle-named? Ooh, she was in trouble)

_You quit your job this instant. Narcissa has written me and told me of your plans to move out. She is over the moon, the poor woman thinks you're just getting your head together before you commit to Draco, but I know exactly what you're doing!_

_Young lady, just because you don't have to answer to your family at the moment does not mean you have permission to act so common. I'm beginning to suspect you do not have any intention of committing to the young sir Malfoy. I advise you to correct this thinking immediately. He is your best chance at a future, Pansy! Please think rationally._

_Maybe you are just so upset you are acting out in a way to get my attention. Please don't feel you must carry on this way. I write Mrs. Malfoy consistently to make sure you are well and I tell her constantly how grateful I am someone is taking care of you! Please do not disappoint her expectations. I am sure that Draco would be heartbroken if you moved away. Narcissa always assures me of his love for you. Don't punish him for taking so long to confess his feelings; young men are ever shy in their affections, especially gentlemen._

_As always, Pansy, remember I love you. This arrangement is only temporary, but again, I urge you to take advantage of your closeness to the young Mr. Malfoy. Mrs. Pansy Marie Malfoy has quite the ring to it, my darling._

_Love, your Father_

Draco was laughing so hard he was crying by the time Pansy finished reading aloud. She sighed and rested her head on the dining room table.

"Young men are shy in their affections?" Draco was gasping for air. "My god, Pansy, we were right about this whole thing. They are trying to set us up."

"Can you believe he's scolding me for not throwing myself at you?" Pansy rolled her eyes. "He thinks that I'm going to die cold, poor and alone!"

Draco was finally beginning to calm down. "Oh, don't worry about it, Pans. That's how all our parents think. You know, it's too bad Blaise isn't still around."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it would look like maybe you had some prospects."

Pansy wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Not that I'm saying you have no prospects…" Draco began to backpedal, but she didn't really feel all that angry over the insensitive statement.

"No, you're right," she said with a sigh. "I don't. No one is interested."

"Bollocks, Pans. I'll bet Astoria knows a few blokes who'd kill for a run at you."

"Don't tell me you're in the stage where you're so happy you need to set up all your single friends."

"No, no! Pansy, listen. This could be good for all of us," he said, sitting up in his chair. "Think. Imagine if some man started coming around to court you? Think how much easier it would be if our parents thought that you had other guys trying to get you?"

"Spare me, Draco," Pansy said flatly. "I know that you just want it to seem like it's my fault you can't be with me. Oh, I was wondering, do you really intend on telling your parents about Astoria when they come back?"

Draco missed a beat before he answered. "Well… yes. You can't blame me for trying to make this situation advantageous, Pansy. I mean, I've been thinking. They're going to come home in two days, can't you get a boyfriend by then?" he sighed, only half-joking.

She laughed. "Of course, just give me an hour in a pub and I'll show you my new Prince Charming."

"How about Longbottom? You spend an awful lot of time together."

"Because he's my _boss_, you git." She shook her head. "Honestly. You are too desperate." Ha. Neville. Neville Longbottom, _her boyfriend_. As if! It must really say something, she thought, if the only man she spent a significant time around was her boss. Especially if that man was Neville Longbottom.

She huffed and got up. "I'm meeting Astoria. I'm probably already running late."

"Give her my love," he said with a grin. "Don't be afraid to get a little handsy, if you know what I mean."

"You are such an idiot," she said, whacking him lightly on the shoulder. "I can't believe everyone thinks you're such a 'gentleman'."

"And everyone thinks you're a lady. How do we fool them?" He stood up and pat her shoulder. "Have a good time, Pans. Make sure Astoria doesn't get too wild."

* * *

><p>Knockturn Alley was always the best place to find a good pub, and Pansy didn't care what anyone else said about it. She found Astoria in Weatherby's. The girl already had a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. She gave it to Pansy with a grin.<p>

Someone was playing an accordion in the corner of the room and it looked like they were setting up for some kind of show. The band was arranging their drums and tuning their instruments. The crowd was sounding at a low, consistent roar. The light was skewed by the smoke rising up from people's pipes.

"This is the Weatherby family band, I think," Astoria told Pansy in between drags of her cigarette.

"Family band? Are you kidding?" Pansy laughed. "Let's go find somewhere else, Astoria."

"No, no, they're really good, actually. We'll listen to two songs and if you don't like them we'll leave."

"I can live with that," Pansy said patiently. They had all night. She took conservative sips from the drink Astoria had ordered her while they waited. They searched for people they knew, finding a few obscure acquaintances, but no one interesting enough to approach.

"This whole scene is so weird when you actually have a boyfriend," the blond said. "I'm going to try my best to stay moderately sober tonight, by the way. Normally I'd be making a plan of attack by now. But I guess I'm just planning for you."

"Oh, I don't need help," Pansy laughed, already feeling a little bit tipsy after only one drink. She could admit that she was a lightweight; she didn't really drink that often.

"There are a lot of old men in here," Astoria laughed. "But there are quite a few people our age. Hey," the band had started playing a song. "Let's dance!"

The band was actually very good, Pansy thought as she twirled around with Astoria among the other people on the floor. She found herself singing along to old familiar wizard folk songs and drinking more and more. She danced with everyone, even old laughing men with gray hair.

She felt herself twirling and twirling, and she didn't remember how but she was suddenly dancing with a young man with black hair and twinkling eyes. The music had turned soft without her even knowing, and they were swaying in tune to a slow mixture of violin and accordion.

"What is your name?" she asked playfully, giving him the best smile she could.

"John," he said with a smile. "And you are?"

"Pansy," she said, feeling dizzy. "Nice to make your acquaintance." She caught a glimpse of Astoria dancing with an older man, giving her a thumbs-up.

"Are you Astoria's friend?" he asked, putting his mouth to her ear so she would hear him over the music.

"Yes," she answered, unable to reach his ear on her tiptoes. "How do you know her?"

He laughed, and it was wonderful. Pansy felt her stomach flipping. "I'd rather not tell the pretty girl I just met that I've kissed that girl before, so what if I tell you a lie?"

She felt herself laughing and caught herself before she snorted. "I think… I'd like anything you told me," she said as smoothly as possible.

He laughed again and if she wasn't drunk already she knew that would do it. The music turned fast again and suddenly they were light on their feet. He twirled her and dipped her and she felt like she'd laughed more in one hour more than she had in three weeks.

He pulled her outside after that song, laughing right along with her. He stumbled a little bit and they found themselves on the side of the brick building. He was leaning over her, an arm on either side of her. She felt dizzy, and she wasn't sure if she was just drunk or extremely happy.

"I don't normally do this," she said, and she knew it sounded cliché but it was the truth, and she felt like she needed to say it.

"That's alright," he said, leaning down. Just before her reached her lips, he surprised her and whispered in her ear like he had in the bar. "Could I steal a kiss, my lady?"

Pansy was vaguely aware that if she were sober, she would never let a line that lame work, but what could she say? Instead of answering, she brushed her lips across his ever-so-softly.

She could feel him smiling through the kiss. He cupped her face and tilted her head back. She breathed him in, a mixture of alcohol and cigarettes, and ran her fingers through his sweaty hair.

He was a pretty good kisser, she decided. It was when he began moving his hands that she noticed something different.

He moved his fingers to her neck, which was actually very nice. She sighed into his mouth to encourage him. He pulled away for a moment to kiss her neck and her jaw, and his hands moved down to the bottom of her knee-length dress to feel her thighs.

And then she let out a small giggle. He stopped for a second, and she sighed again to let him know she wanted more. He continued kissing her, moving down to her collar bone and moving his hand up her leg even more.

Oh God, she thought, feeling that giggle come up in her chest again, and she tried to pass it off for a moan. He was _tickling_her.

He continued, a little less eager, but she knew she could salvage the situation. He finally reached her inner thigh, and after a few seconds of holding her breath she lost it.

"Ha!" she practically shrieked, and he stopped abruptly.

"Are you _laughing_ at me?" he asked incredulously. And Merlin help her, once she was caught she could not stop laughing.

"No, I—" She shut her eyes and felt tears running down her cheeks. She couldn't stop giggling and it was bad. "No, it's not you, it's just…" she couldn't speak without sniggering. "It tickled!" She had to bend over and hold onto her stomach, and she was laughing so hard now at the disaster this encounter had been her stomach hurt. She was way too drunk for this.

"Goodbye!" he said, obviously frustrated.

"I'm sure there's someone else in there you can take home, don't worry," the words barely made it past her lips, she was laughing so hard. He huffed and stalked back into the bar, and Pansy gave herself a moment to pull it together.

She laughed for a second longer and decided she wanted more alcohol. She found Astoria, who had not kept her resolution to stay moderately sober. The girls drank some more and danced some more. Their voices mingled with those in the bar, singing songs they didn't know the words to and laughing together.

* * *

><p><strong>The next evening<strong>

Neville was standing in the atrium, letting his arms get a little sun before it set. He had sent for Pansy through the floo in her room, which she'd given him access to in case of a work emergency. Even though he'd told her to expect him to call on Sunday evening, he'd still heard a shriek of surprise.

"Longbottom…?" he heard her voice at the front door.

"In the atrium," he called, and he heard her footsteps coming toward him. He turned and greeted her with a smile. "Hello, Parkinson."

"Hello," she said as she set her bag down in the corner. She began to tie her apron. "Alright, what are we doing?"

He pulled two ladders out of the storage closet and set them under one of the higher-up plants. He held hers for a moment for her while she climbed, and then climbed his own.

Pansy secretly loved climbing the ladder to look at the high-up plants. They were rare and more exotic, and they smelled so good. They were harder to take care of, and she kind of liked learning how to tend them. Neville appeared at the top of his ladder on the other side of the pot they were looking at.

"Are we planting something?" she asked, staring at the empty soil.

"No, it's already in here. This one only likes to grow when the sun sets," Neville explained, running his fingers through the dirt. "We just got it in from Africa. I thought I'd show you how to look after it."

She nodded, letting her fingers rest on the edge of the cool pot. Neville shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a tiny charmed watering can, one she was familiar with by now. It grew to regular size as soon as it was freed from his pocket and he used his wand to place it in the air to levitate three feet above the plant. Water trickled slowly down onto the soil.

"Is that it?" Pansy asked after a second. Neville laughed and pulled out his pocket watch.

"No, we just wait for six minutes, and then I'll show you what to do next."

"Six minutes, huh?"

"Yep."

They stood quietly for a second. Pansy was the first to talk.

"I think I might know where to look for a flat," she said, for the sake of conversation. Neville looked up at her, finally noticing the bags under her eyes.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. Knockturn Alley. I was there last night and I noticed that there were some buildings looking for tenants. And it's pretty cheap, too."

"Knockturn Alley?" He couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice. "What were you doing there in the first place?"

Pansy flushed, and he could only guess what that was supposed to mean. "I was with Astoria at a pub." Neville grinned.

"That's a little shady," he said with a laugh. She rolled her eyes.

"Well, it was the first time I've been out in a while, and Astoria invited me to go watch some family band…" Neville was smiling wide now and she laughed. "It was fun, if you must know."

"I didn't take you for the type to go to pubs," he said casually, checking his watch.

"I'm not!" Pansy insisted. "That was probably one of the only times I've ever been in one."

"I hope," he said. He checked his watch. "Four more minutes. So you went to bed late?"

"Yeah, I must look tired."

Neville smiled, and something about it reminded her of him in school. She smiled back. "You don't look too terrible," he said.

"You are too kind." He laughed a little and looked at the soil. She was actually… nice, when you got to know her. He had to wonder how she'd changed from the mean, shallow girl she once was into… herself. Of course everyone matured as they grew older, but he wondered when it had happened.

This was the same girl who had been on Dolores Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. The same girl he'd once felt was an enemy of Dumbledore's Army, an enemy of Harry. And now she was here, with him, waiting on a plant to grow. She'd done everything he asked her to do. He knew she felt awkward sometimes, but she still tried to work hard. She was different.

"So what did you do last night? Do anything exciting this weekend?" she asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

"I just had dinner with Harry and Ginny."

"They're married, right?"

"Yeah. They had Hermione and Ron over too. We just… relaxed for a little while."

Pansy seemed to tense a little at the mention of Ron, but whatever she'd wanted to say she let it go. "Well, that sounds nice."

"And I wasn't hung over the next day," Neville said with a smile. Pansy's eyes widened and she snorted.

"I'm going to pretend you never said that," she said in her snootiest voice possible.

"Have I offended your sensibilities, my lady?" he replied in the same tone.

"My lady? Ugh," she replied, remembering the boy from last night. "Never again."

"Not charming?"

She smirked. "Not at all." When had Longbottom become so easy to talk to?

"We have two more minutes," he said. "I guess we shouldn't have come up here so early. I was just nervous we'd miss our chance."

"That's fine," Pansy said, enjoying the chance to talk with him while she wasn't face down in mud. "I like being up here anyway."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She frowned. "Is that stupid?"

"No! Not at all. I'm just surprised, I guess. I was worried when you first started working here you hated it. Especially after that first day."

Pansy blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I think I was just tired. And there were other things going on. I shouldn't have been so..."

"You're fine," he said.

"I probably looked like a total loon."

"No, don't worry. I've seen worse," he replied, thinking of Hermione, who had been completely on edge lately.

"Now I'm curious," she laughed. "What could possibly be worse?"

"You'll have to live in suspense," he said, checking his watch one last time. "Alright, thirty more seconds. When you've had the water running on the plant for six minutes is when you need to stop it from pouring…" She waited for him to do it, but he made a gesture towards the can and she figured out that he was going to be walking her through this. She reached an arm up to grasp the handle of the watering can and felt her foot slip a little on the rung of the ladder.

"Oh," she grunted and grasped the edge of the pot. She knew that if she could just reach one inch…

"Pansy, use your wand!" Neville said quickly, seeing that she was already beginning to fall. She looked at him for a moment with furrowed brows before making the plunge to the bottom of the atrium.

All Neville could think as he descended his ladder was that she was dead. He knew it was silly, but he honestly wasn't sure what a fall that long could do. Finally, to his relief, he heard a wail from below.

Pansy was lying flat on her back on the floor, hyperventilating. He knelt beside her to assess the damage.

"Did you land flat on your back?" he asked, afraid to touch her.

"No," she gasped. "Can't breath—"

"You can, you can," he said, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt. He could see a lump protruding from under the skin on her leg. There was no way that her leg wasn't broken. She was struggling to get up to look at it, but he knew she would freak out if she saw it. "Lay back down," he said gently.

"My leg hurts," she said through tears. "It hurts so bad."

"I'm going to pick you up and apparate you to St. Mungo's," he said. He tried as gently as he could to scoop her up bridal-style and hang onto her as he apparated to the hospital.

* * *

><p>Neville waited in the lobby while the doctors saw Pansy, a heavy feeling of guilt weighing over him. He shouldn't have had her up there so high. He should have used the extra time they had to prepare her for what she had to do, rather than chatting her up.<p>

Half an hour passed, and Pansy finally came back out into the waiting area on crutches, her leg all bandaged up. Her face looked raw from tears but she was smiling and waving around a bottle of skele-gro and something else he couldn't quite make out.

He reached her and put an arm around her shoulder for support. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'll be fine," she said with a sniff. "I got some skele-gro and pain potion. So I'm actually more than alright." She gave him a grin that he guessed was from the pain medication. Another wave of guilt washed over him.

"Let me take you home," he offered. "I don't know if you should apparate…"

"No, I'm only out here to tell you I have to stay the night."

"And they let you come out here and tell me yourself? Why didn't a nurse just talk to me?" he asked, his lips pulling into a frown.

"There isn't any room in the recovery wing, so I'm to wait in the lobby until someone finds a free bed."

"Oh," he sighed. He sat back down, guiding her into the chair next to him. She exhaled loudly and sat her broken leg up on one of the coffee tables that decorated the waiting area.

"Pansy, I'm so… so sorry that happened. It was all my fault…"

"No, I just reached too far. It was a stupid accident," she said with a loopy grin. "Honestly, it's no big deal."

He disagreed, but he knew that she wouldn't hear it. He silently resolved to at least pay her medical bill. It was the least he could do.

A smiling nurse walked up and gently greeted Pansy. "There's a bed available in the Maternity Ward, if that's alright."

Pansy turned to Neville and grinned. He smiled back at her, still trying to take in the information. "I guess I'm off," she said with a yawn. "Have a good night. Thanks for keeping me company."

"Anytime," he replied. "G'night, Pansy."

"Good night, Neville," she said, noticing that his name felt strange in her mouth. She had never addressed him by his first name before. Neville noticed too, and shook his head, smiling.

"I'll see you later. Take tomorrow off," he said. "I can just come by to see you so you can balance the books." She gave him a nod and he apparated home.

* * *

><p>He walked into the dark atrium to clean up the ladder and the mess, his mind too busy to sleep. He felt too shaken by Pansy's fall, and too guilty. Not just about letting her fall, but about the whole situation in general. He had started out with a flawed perception of her, and that bothered him. He hadn't even really felt that much sympathy after learning about her family troubles in the paper, but now… he felt like scum.<p>

She wasn't all that bad. In fact, she was handling the whole thing so well. When she could rely on the kindness of the Malfoys to sustain her, she chose not to. She wanted to work instead, even if the job only paid minimum wage. She even wanted to live on her own. Neville marveled at the new emotion he was feeling for her. Was it… respect?

He respected Pansy Parkinson. A girl who he once despised for her treatment of others; a girl who had mocked him relentlessly in school. Someone who he'd thought was a coward and a bully.

He sighed. She'd mentioned the possibility of living in Knockturn Alley. He knew he couldn't let her do that. The crime rates there were ridiculous. Half the houses in that area were in darkly lit neighborhoods, filled with creeps and lurkers.

He found himself glancing at the stairs and thinking. There were two other flats beside his own in the upstairs section of the building. He hadn't ever bothered with them before, having no interest in running a business and managing an apartment at the same time. But he knew that if he had the knowledge of a decent place Pansy could stay and still let her live in Knockturn alley, he would feel terrible. What kind of friend would do that?

Wait, were he and Parkinson friends now? He sighed and marched up the stairs to his flat. He needed a good night's rest. He would think about all this later.

* * *

><p>Pansy felt herself drifting into a troubled sleep sometimes, but it was difficult when you had to wake up every few hours to swallow a foul bone-repairing potion. By the time the sun started shining through the windows of the Maternity Ward, Pansy was dead tired.<p>

One of the flimsy curtains that separated patients opened up and the smiley nurse walked through it to check on Pansy's leg. She pinched and squeezed the limb and checked a few boxes off on a piece of paper.

"You are good to go, hun. Your leg should be better than ever. You come see us if it gives you any trouble, m'kay?"

Pansy nodded and the nurse left, closing the curtain. She sighed and leaned back in the cot. She supposed she should skip out very soon. Draco probably thought she was… well, he probably didn't even miss her. She rolled her eyes.

That was when she heard a sniff on the other side of the curtain to her right. The patient on the other side was crying… Pansy frowned, trying to ignore the sound while she laced up her shoes.

The sniffling became tiny sobs, and the sobs turned into sad, quiet crying. Pansy looked up at the curtain, finally giving in to her empathy. "Hello?" she said, standing close to the curtain. "Are you okay over there?"

The crying slowed down a little. "I've been better," the girl on the other side replied.

"What… um, what happened?" Pansy asked, feeling silly. There was nothing she could do for this other person. Why was she even bothering?

"I just found out I'm pregnant," she girl said, beginning to cry again. "I can't be pregnant. It's just… I was so careful!"

"Oh… it'll be okay," Pansy said, feeling pathetic. She honestly hadn't a clue what to say. She would probably be just as upset if she were pregnant herself. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The other girl laughed. "Well, yeah. A fiancée, actually. It's his," she said quickly, before Pansy could ask. She smiled.

"Well, you have a good start then, right?" The girl laughed a little. "Does he love you?"

There was the sound of a nose blowing into a tissue before the girl answered. "Yeah. Yeah, he loves me a lot. And… I think he'll be happy. He'll probably just be relieved that there's a reason I've been so dreadful to him the past few weeks."

"That's really good," Pansy said. "So you'll be okay, right?"

"I think so. It's just that…" the girl laughed. "I can't believe I'm telling this to a complete stranger. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's okay," Pansy said quickly. "I understand. Sometimes it's like you have no one to talk to." She sat down on her cot, squinting her eyes at the backlit silhouette of the girl on the cot next to her.

"Yeah. It's just that… no one I know will understand how scared I am. I mean my best friend wants to get pregnant so badly. But I am so… so, so terrified."

Pansy felt bad for the girl. "Do you need a hug or something?" she asked, surprising herself.

"Yeah, that would be really great, actually," the girl on the other side sniffed. Pansy stood and pulled the curtain to the side. The girl froze, her mouth falling open.

"Pansy Parkinson?"

"Hermione Granger?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Bahaha. Look what I did there! I just pulled a dick move and left you off with a kind of weird cliff-hanger-twist thing.

Yep, Hermione's pregnant. Look at me, subplotting like a little maniac. I am having too much fun here, you guys.

Please review! Also, I'm still kind of interested to know. I've had a few suggestions but I just want to ask one more time to see if I can pull a few more opinions.

**Extra Credit Question:**

If someone were to write a story with Lavender Brown, who would you like to see her paired with? And why?


	7. Here's an idea

**A/N: **Wow, guys. What a chapter! I want to give a BIG thanks to **TamariChan**, who was my beta. She really cleaned it up and made it look snazzy!

Also, I guess some people had trouble viewing chapter 6 for a few hours after I first posted it? I don't know what that was about, here's to hoping it won't happen again.

Please enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p>"What are <em>you<em> doing in the maternity ward?" Hermione asked, brows furrowed.

"Definitely not what _you're_ doing," Pansy stated, irritated at her tone. What had happened to the nice girl behind the curtain? She could hardly believe it was Granger. "I broke my leg last night. They sent me here to sleep."

Hermione covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe this is happening," she mumbled through her fingers.

Pansy sighed and sat back down on her own cot. "I'm a little surprised myself," she said, feeling very fatigued. What a relief that she had the day off.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about…" Pansy waved her hands up and down at Hermione, "this. It's really none of my business anyway."

Hermione looked surprised. "Oh. Thanks."

Pansy sighed and looked around for her purse. Where was the damn thing? This was one of the most uncomfortable situations!

"So," Hermione said awkwardly. "What happened to your leg?"

Pansy found the bag under the cot and slung it onto her shoulder. "I fell off a ladder," she said.

"I'm sorry. Did you have to Apparate with a broken leg?" Pansy sat down on the cot again. Was Granger actually making an attempt at civil conversation? When her fiancée had been such a heel?

"Well, Longbottom brought me side-along," Pansy replied. Okay, she would bite. Who was she to turn down polite conversation? It wasn't as if she had a ton of friends beyond Draco and Astoria.

"He brought you?"

"Well, I fell off a ladder in his atrium," Pansy clarified. "I think he blames himself."

"He's like that," Hermione laughed. "How is he? I haven't seen him since he hired you, actually." Pansy frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's just that before, he would have me balance the books at the end of the day. But I really didn't have the time to do it anymore."

"Oh," Pansy ran her fingers through her hair, just barely realizing that she probably looked a mess. "Well, I guess it's good to know that he doesn't have to have you correct any of my mistakes," she said with a small smile.

"Yeah," Hermione said, returning the grin. "He has a lot more free time, too. I'm glad he finally hired someone."

Pansy's face flushed. "I'm glad, too," she said. "Well, I'd better be going. I'm about to drop right here."

"People never get good sleep with those bone-repairing potions," Hermione said in understanding. "It was nice talking to you."

"It was nice talking to you too," Pansy said in return, and she meant it. It was a pleasant surprise to have a nice conversation with Hermione Granger. She was much more refined than her fiancée. It was beyond Pansy how someone with good breeding would get involved with someone like Ron Weasley, but it wasn't her place to say anything.

She decided to take the risk and Apparate while she was tired, and thankfully made it without Splinching herself. Too tired to find pajamas, she just stripped down to her underwear and crawled beneath her sheets.

* * *

><p>Pansy felt like she'd only closed her eyes for a second when she opened them again. There was a banging on her door. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It was too soon, she thought woefully. Why would anyone want her awake right now?<p>

"Pansy! Are you awake?" Draco's loud voice pierced through her door. She rolled her eyes and fell back into bed. Maybe if she stayed quiet he would leave her alone.

"Pansy! We're a little worried about you," Astoria's voice now called. Pansy groaned.

"What?" Pansy called. The voices on the other side of the door called to her again, but she didn't hear them over her little fireplace suddenly flaming green.

"Pansy?" A voice, Neville Longbottom's voice, to be precise, came out of the Floo. "I'm on my way with the books, just to give you a heads up," he said.

Pansy gasped. She was still in her underwear. "No, wait!" she cried, jumping out of bed.

"Pansy!" called the voices at the door. "Unlock your room!"

"Wait!" Pansy yelled frantically, searching for a dress she could throw on quickly. She heard the sound of Draco casting _Alohomora _and Astoria protesting, telling him to wait.

The door unlocked and the two of them barged in at the exact same time that Neville stepped into her room through the Floo. Pansy dove into her bed, trying to wrap her half-naked body in the sheets before Neville saw anything he wasn't supposed to. She didn't really care about Draco or Astoria seeing her in her bra and knickers as much as she cared about Longbottom seeing. He was her _boss_, for crying out loud!

Neville saw what seemed to be a lot of skin as he watched his employee dive into her sheets like a madwoman. He heard astonished cries from another part of the room and saw Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass standing at the door and staring at him in surprise.

"Oh, Pansy!" Astoria cried. "I'm so sorry! I think we interrupted something, Draco."

Pansy groaned. Leave it to Astoria to say the worst possible thing at the worst possible time, in the most sincere way possible. Draco, of course, just held back a snort of laughter.

"Pansy, we were just wondering how you were doing, because we haven't heard from you in a day," Draco said slowly, clearly enjoying every second of what he knew for a fact was a misunderstanding. "Now we know why. Good day, Longbottom." He bowed and led a confused Astoria out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Neville stood by the fireplace, his face completely red. Pansy was covered by her blankets, but she could imagine he probably had a horrified look on his face.

"P-Pansy," he said after a second, turning around so that he was facing the wall instead of the bed. "I am so sorry. I tried to give you a heads-up before I Flooed over…"

"I know," Pansy's voice was muffled under the covers. "Just… close your eyes."

"Eyes are closed," Neville said, squeezing them shut.

She peeked out through the blankets. He was facing the wall, good. She slipped out of the bed and hurried to her dresser. Finding a proper dress, she slipped it on over her head.

"Alright, I'm decent," she said. He turned around, opening his eyes. With a sigh, he set the books down on the small desk in the corner of the room.

"I'm so sorry, Parkinson," he said.

"No, it's not your fault," Pansy replied. "It's stupid Draco, he should know better not to barge into my room by now."

"Still," he said nervously, running his fingers through his short, unruly hair to smooth it a little. "It was awfully rude of me. Were you asleep?"

Pansy nodded. "Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night." She pulled two chairs up to the desk and sat down. He followed suit and sat next to her. He watched her pull out a quill and open the book.

"So," she said distractedly as she scribbled down numbers. "How was work today?"

"Slow, thankfully," he sighed, placing his elbow on the desk, careful not to intrude on her space. "I forgot how much easier it working with someone. You know, ordering you around," he said with a smile.

She turned her head and gave him a look with a raised brow. "Admit it, Longbottom. You are on a power trip," she teased, continuing to write.

"Naw, I wouldn't go that far," he said, casually glancing about her large room. The Malfoy Manor was enormous. Her room was probably bigger than his whole flat. He sighed, wondering how to bring that one up.

"No, I suppose not," she said, her eyes now completely focused on the papers, flipping through and checking and re-checking her numbers so far.

Neville suddenly remembered the other reason for his visit and stood up so he could get something out of his pocket. It was a sealed envelope.

"I nearly forgot to give this to you yesterday," he said, handing it to her. Pansy opened it and gasped. Her first paycheck!

"Thank you!" she said, dumping the money out on the desk, counting the gold-colored coins quickly. "Fifty galleons? Oh, that's a lot…"

"Five is for last night. Your hospital bill," he said quietly.

"Oh," she said, remembering how she'd had to dip into the little money her father was sending her to pay it. "Thank you, but… that wasn't your fault," she said. She didn't particularly _want_ to give back the money, but taking it felt too weird.

"It's law, Parkinson," he said kindly, sitting back down. "If you have a work-related accident the employer has to pay for it."

"Oh, I didn't know," she said. Now she felt sort of disappointed that Longbottom hadn't just done it out of the kindness of his heart. What was wrong with her? She must be hormonal, she decided as she carefully placed each galleon into a velvet bag. "Thank you so much. Maybe this will be enough for a deposit on a flat, hm?" she said cheerfully. "No more of Draco barging into my bathroom, or my room, I mean," she corrected herself when his eyes got wide.

"Barging in on you in the bathroom?"

"While I was taking a bath. To be fair, it's usually him and Astoria together," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

Neville shook his head and laughed. "So, are you still planning on living in Knockturn Ally?" he asked, thinking to himself that there was no guarantee that someone wouldn't 'barge' in on her (read: 'break' in) in that part of town.

"Well, it's the cheapest option so far," she said, pulling a newspaper out from a shelf in her desk. It was opened to the classifieds, house listings. Neville picked up the paper and looked at the listings she had circled.

"'Cozy third floor apartment,'" Neville read aloud. "'35 galleons a month. Quiet neighbors. Only one death in the—' Parkinson, are you serious? 'Only one death'?"

Pansy flushed. "Well, it isn't my first choice, obviously," she said defensively. "And besides, it was probably just an old person that lived alone." Neville raised an eyebrow and found another circled listing.

"'Comfortable basement apartment. Quiet neighbors. Potions lab in upstairs floor. Minimal holes in the ceiling.' Oh, well, that's wonderful, minimal holes in the ceiling," he said. "Have you noticed that almost all of these listings have 'quiet neighbors'? Do you suppose it's because half of them are dead?"

"Longbottom! Where else am I supposed to look? Those are all the cheapest listings. And I think that if I give them a chance they might be okay. I'm _trying _to be optimistic," Pansy said, snatching the newspaper out of his hands.

"I have an idea," he said, flinching at his own transparency. He knew this was a terrible conversational transition, and maybe his motives were way too obvious. He wondered how he'd thought he could get this past a Slytherin.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. What was he up to? "What's your idea?"

"Well, I happen to own an apartment building," he said slowly. "I think you might have known already, but my flat is up the stairs from the shop. But my flat isn't the only one up there. It's a tiny complex of three apartments."

Pansy was surprised. "They came with the building?"

"I think the whole building used to be an apartment complex, but they made it into a shop later. And when I bought it I figured I had a good deal because I could just live on top, and work below."

"And you want me to live up there?"

Neville hadn't really thought of _wanting _her to live up there, as much as he figured it would just be doing her a favor. "Well, I don't mind either way. What I mean is that you have the option of living there."

"How much would you charge me for rent?" she asked, completely forgetting about balancing the book.

"Ten galleons. And I could just take it right out of your paycheck, so you wouldn't even have to think about it," he replied. Pansy studied him.

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?"

"Well, I mean, anything is better than Knockturn Alley," Neville laughed, avoiding the question. "Anyway, the other flats are not very big. Maybe a little smaller than this room. You could pick which one you wanted, though. Also, there are wards up at night so people won't break in."

"Quiet neighbors?" she said with a grin.

"Quiet, but not dead-quiet," he replied with a laugh, looking her in the eyes. She looked away, smiling.

"I guess I should take a look, then," she said quietly, tapping her chin with the end of her quill.

"We can go tonight, if you like. It looks like you've been cramped up all day."

Pansy nodded. "More like I slept all day, but yeah, I'd like to go. Let me finish this and I'll Floo over with the book."

"Alright," Neville said, standing up and walking toward the fireplace. "Just Floo into the shop and walk right up the stairs. There's a hallway, just knock on the first door to the right."

He was gone in a green flash of flames, and finally Pansy realized that her heart was pounding. She felt her hands shaking and she set down the quill for a second and took deep breaths. What was wrong with her?

She was just excited, she decided after some thought. She was glad that she would finally be able to move out of Malfoy Manor and actually be on her own. She was surprised and delighted that Longbottom was being so generous toward her.

But Pansy had to wonder… What were his motives for being so kind? What did he want? It was the first time she'd actually thought about it, and she wondered why she had ignored those questions for so long. She supposed that he just seemed so trustworthy that it had never occurred to her that he might have a motive. But that was silly, she thought, for a person to just not have a motive. Maybe it wasn't anything sinister. Maybe he just thought it would be inconvenient if she lived in Knockturn Alley. Maybe it was just easier to have her close by so she could work more.

Hm, that seemed like it would make sense. He always mentioned that some plants were on timers and that he had to wake up in the middle of the night sometimes to water them or tend to them. Maybe he wanted her to do some of that.

She continued working on the budget. That wasn't too bad, she supposed. It certainly made more sense; who does something just because it's kind or charitable? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought, Neville _Longbottom does_.

* * *

><p>About an hour had passed when Neville heard the Floo downstairs. He was standing in one of the neglected apartments that were across the hall from his own. He could hear Pansy's footsteps coming up the stairs and he crossed out into the hallway to greet her.<p>

"Hullo," he greeted. Pansy was a little out of breath from the flight of stairs so she just gave him a short little wave.

"I set the book on your desk downstairs," she said after a second of catching her breath. "That's a lot of stairs."

"It's charmed from the outside to look smaller than it really is," Neville said. "It's still a little disconcerting. Here's one of the flats." He pointed toward the open doorway and Pansy peered inside.

It was very small, and very dusty. Still, it was only a hundred galleons, so she couldn't really complain.

"This is the small one," he said. "The other one actually has a tiny bedroom."

"Let's look at that one," Pansy said with a laugh. Neville closed the door to the dusty flat and it only took him two or three steps to reach the other door. It was directly across from his own door, she observed. He unlocked the door and it creaked open.

Neville laughed, a little embarrassed. "I'll oil that," he said. "Go ahead and take a look."

Pansy stepped in first and he followed. It was a little bigger than the previous room, she thought. There was a little living space where she supposed she could fit a couch or two, and the carpeted area ended abruptly at a hardwood floor. There began a tiny little kitchen area with a big window that looked out into the other side of the alley. She crossed the room to open the door to the bedroom, which was so small that she wondered if she could even fit a bed into it. In there she saw a door to a decent-sized bathroom.

"It's tiny," she remarked. Neville shrugged.

"Yeah. Mine looks just about like this one," he replied with a shrug. "I really only sleep there these days. Mostly I'm working downstairs. I usually have dinner at the Burrow."

Pansy walked to the kitchen counter and ran her finger through the dust and rubbed it in between her fingers. She didn't want to say it outright, but she found herself… kind of in love with the little place. She liked the window that looked out to the back alley. How nice it would be, to have a private place. She could probably even ask Neville if he could place a ward on her door that kept people from using their wands to get in.

"I like it," she declared, hands on her hips. Neville didn't expect the feeling of warmth he felt in his chest when she said that. He coughed, wondering if he was getting a cold or something.

"That's great," he said, pleased. "I can get it ready for you by tomorrow. I'll oil the door and everything." _Maybe I'll have Ginny or Hermione come by and help me clean_, he thought to himself.

"You mean I could get moved in by tomorrow?" she asked, not even bothering to mask the excitement in her voice. "I can be out of Malfoy Manor by tomorrow? That's wonderful!"

"This place is quite a bit smaller than theirs," Neville laughed, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms.

"Well, yes," Pansy said. "But I'll finally be on my own. Oh!" her eyes lit up. "Daddy is going to be so mad."

"Your dad?"

Pansy flushed. Neville didn't know her family situation. How could she have forgotten? Well, she figured that it couldn't hurt to tell Longbottom a little bit of the story. She reached into her purse to pull out the small pile of letters her father had written her since she'd moved.

"My father still writes me," she said, looking for the one she wanted. "The newspaper had it all wrong. I mean, my family _did_ disown me, those gits. But the truth is that my father planned it so that I could come back someday. So of course, the first place I ran to was the Malfoy Manor, because Narcissa loves me and wants me to visit more anyway."

The thought of the icy Mrs. Malfoy loving someone other than her son was strange to Neville. The only times he'd ever interacted with her was when she was turning her nose up at one of his friends. He supposed she couldn't be all bad, since she had saved Harry all those years ago, but still, it was a strange idea.

"So then Draco and I found out that it was just as my father and his mother planned, because look…" she pulled out the letter she wanted Neville to read. He unfolded the paper and she watched his face while he examined, guessing where he was by the expressions on his face.

"'Young men are shy in their affections?'" Neville scoffed, looking up at her. She nodded.

"He and Narcissa think we should get married," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "As you can see he's totally 'round the bend over the fact that I've got a job. He wants me to play this helpless little… thing! He thinks that Draco is in love with me and I'm just punishing everybody by getting a job because I'm a spoiled little brat!" She let an angry breath. It felt good to finally be able to express her anger over the matter.

Neville read over the letter again. He felt a strange sense of anxiety over the fact that so many people were pushing for Pansy and Draco to get married. The idea did funny things to his stomach.

"Well, now he's going to be royally pissed," she said, and Neville detected a hint of glee in her voice.

"Looks like it," he said with a small smile, handing the letter back to her. She folded it back into its seal and tucked it back into her purse. "Well, I wouldn't worry about it, Parkinson. Look at you. A working girl with her own flat and everything."

She beamed, a brilliant smile blossoming on her face. "I'm so happy," she said, and covered her mouth. "I mean, thank you so much, Longbottom. I just… you've been really, really kind to me."

"It's nothing," he said, shrugging. "I mean, you're the one paying rent, so it's not _that_ great of a deal." She scoffed. He was being ridiculous. Of course it was a great deal.

"But it's so cheap," she said. "You don't have to… I don't know. Not that I'm complaining."

She suddenly realized how close they were, both leaning on the counter. She looked up at him, really studying him for what felt like the first time. He was so tall, and it was ridiculous that she was only just now noticing. The sun was setting outside, casting light on him through the window. His skin was lightly tanned from being in the atrium; his muscles were toned from years of hard work. He was certainly no pretty boy, she thought. So different from all of the high society boys she knew. His eyes were a nice hazel-green color that she was a little bit jealous of, and there was that five o'clock shadow that he never seemed to be able to get rid of.

Neville grinned and scratched his scruffy chin, breaking the tension. "So, want to give me your rent now or tomorrow?"

She laughed, feeling silly. She grabbed her coin purse. "Here," she said, counting out fifteen. "Consider the extra five an incentive to clean this place up. Have you seen this layer of dust? It's like an inch thick. I have _no_ desire to try cleaning all of this!"

Neville rolled his eyes. "Yes, Princess Parkinson, whatever you say. By tomorrow this castle shall be yours."

She scoffed, holding back a laugh, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Well, make sure it's done by tomorrow, or you're fired."

"Ha-ha-ha, oh really?" he replied, tucking the coins into his pocket. "Get out of here, Parkinson, go home. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Oh, sure, sure," she said, heading down the stairs to the floo. "Good night, Longbottom!"

"G'night," he said, crossing the hall to his own flat and opening the door. He listened to the fire place flare up and sighed. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

* * *

><p>Pansy hadn't known how difficult actually moving was. Yes, she had relocated to the Malfoy's when she'd left home, but she hadn't actually had to move more things than her own clothes and make-up. Her room at the Manor was already furnished, but it was much harder work when you had to do it yourself (especially after a whole day of actual work that involved lifting heavy pots and watering plants). Of course, she had help from Astoria, who was dressed for the occasion. Her hair was pulled back and a rolled-up handkerchief was tied around her head.<p>

Only Astoria could look cute while she was working, Pansy thought. She, on the other hand, still had smudges of dirt on her face and in between her fingernails. Not cute at all.

Between the two of them, it took almost no time to move all of Pansy's things to the new apartment. Astoria left almost as soon as they were done, to meet Draco, Pansy presumed. She sat cross-legged in the middle of her living room floor and looked around. The apartment was quite bare.

She heard Neville climbing up the stairs and he knocked on the open door, stepping inside and shoving his hands in his pocket. "Did you need any help?" he asked.

Pansy shrugged and smiled. "This is it," she said, extending both of her hands out. "Did you clean it yourself? It's really nice in here."

"No," he admitted. "I paid Hermione and Ginny to clean it for me last night."

"You couldn't just use your wand?" Pansy thought of Hermione and briefly wondered if she'd told anyone about being pregnant yet. Either way, Pansy planned on keeping her mouth shut.

"I'm not great at those types of spells," he said. "Ginny is handy with them though. Probably because of Mrs. Weasley."

"I'll have to owl them a thank-you card," Pansy said.

"They'd probably like that," he said, wandering further into the room. "It's a little bare. No furniture?"

"Well…" Pansy scrunched up her nose in thought. "I have a bed back at home. And a couch, too. A really nice one, actually." She thought of her wonderful, soft fainting couch that she kept by her bedroom window at home, and felt a pang of homesickness. She needed that couch, she realized. She was emotionally attached to that couch. "I want to summon my old furniture from home."

Neville just leaned against her kitchen counter. "Wouldn't that be stealing?"

She went on like he hadn't said a word. "I guess I could just go there and ask for it," she mused. "I probably wouldn't be able to, though. We have to keep up this whole family estrangement act, you know."

"Sorry, Parkinson," he said. "Maybe you could go to the thrift store down the street. Maybe they'll have something you like."

That sounded terribly unappealing, she thought. "The sun is still out," she said, looking out her lovely window. "If you wanted, you could help me get my old furniture."

Neville raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

"Well, Daddy doesn't usually get home until after ten at night."

"Oh, I don't know if we should break in," he said, knowing where this was heading.

"Oh, no," she said, standing up. "It wouldn't be breaking in! It is my own house, you know."

That little Slytherin! Neville shook his head. "That's not going to work on me," he said.

Damn, she thought. "What are you talking about?" she asked, leaning on the counter next to him. "It's not illegal. We'd just be going to my manor for a moment. Then we could just Apparate back here, and viola!"

"No," Neville said, crossing his arms. "It's not really your furniture, anyway."

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "What are you talking about? Of course it's mine."

"Did you pay for it?"

Her mouth opened like she was going to say something, and then she shut it and crossed her arms. "Well, then. What do you suggest, Goodie Gryffindor?"

"Thrift store." He shook his head and turned to leave when she sighed dramatically.

"Is it still open?" She grumbled, following him out.

"Until eight, I think," he said. "You can go check. If you find something I'll help you carry it up the stairs."

"I doubt I'll find anything, but I'll take a look," she said, starting down the stairs. She stopped and looked up. "Wait, what about a bed?"

Neville looked down the stairs to where she was. "What?"

"I can't get a bed from a thrift store," she said. "It'll be… used."

"So?" he laughed. She walked the rest of the way down, talking loudly.

"It's _used_! Who knows what's happened on it?" He heard the bell ring on the front door and he knew she was gone.

* * *

><p>Pansy supposed this couch made the room look better. She tucked sheets into the corners of the sofa to make it look a little classier, but it wasn't helping much. At this point in the night, though, she was too tired to think about it.<p>

She was wrapped in a nice blanket that Draco had told her to just take. She had decided to sleep on her couch (which was actually quite comfortable, she hated to admit). It was dark outside. She could hear owls hooting outside the window, and a thought suddenly hit her.

This was the first night she had ever, ever spent alone.

There was no one in this flat except for her.

She was used to having her father in the house, or at least some house elves. In Hogwarts she'd had dorm mates. She pulled the covers up to her chin even though it was a little warm. Why did she feel so anxious?

Every creak in the building scared her, even though she had grown up in an old house and knew that they settled at night. Every sound outside she worried was some kind of intruder. She tried to think of all the wards that were around the building, and it helped a little bit, but not much.

She finally fell asleep hours later, when the light began peeking through the windows, and for the first time, she honestly wondered if she was ready to live on her own.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hey guys! Tell me, how did you like the chapter? I'm trying to weave a little tension in there, hopefully it's working.

Review or PM me and let me know what you think!


	8. The other lady

**A/N: **Okay guys. This is the last chapter that has gone through editing, meaning that a real update is coming soon. All is well. :)

* * *

><p>Neville had to say that overall, he enjoyed having a neighbor, especially one that he knew. Pansy was usually quite pleasant, although lately she seemed a little more tired than usual. He never said so, though. Most of the women he knew got offended when they heard something of the sort, and he wasn't going to take his chances with Parkinson.<p>

The store was closed today, and it was just as well. Most places were taking a three-day weekend to commemorate the Final Battle, the day the Second War ended. Neville really didn't care for the holiday, and Pansy seemed to share the sentiment, though he was sure it was for different reasons.

This afternoon she was sitting on his couch, a mug of tea in her hand. She always came to borrow dishes, saying that she wouldn't buy them from the thrift store. She couldn't wrap her head around the idea that people actually sold things after they were used. He didn't have the heart to tell her that his _own_ dishes came from the thrift store.

Pansy was exhausted. She hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep in a week. All she could think about when she laid down on her used couch was her old bed, and her wonderful, cushiony fainting couch at home. The small noises kept her awake, too. She was miserable from fatigue. Every night she lay awake listening to little sounds coming from the alley outside, imagining that at any moment someone could try to break in.

She visited the Malfoys often but she still hadn't received a letter from her father. She had asked Narcissa to write to him for her and ask if she could go home to collect her furniture, but there had been no reply.

Neville was in his kitchen making a sandwich. She actually felt safer in his apartment than she did in her own, but she figured it was just because there was another person around. It was more… homey. And she always did better with company. She wasn't used to sleeping in a space all her own—sure, she'd had her own bedroom in the Malfoy manor, but Draco's room was just next door. Even at home, she could always count on her father to be awake in the dark hours of the night, contemplating something or another at the kitchen table, ready to pour Pansy a cuppa and listen to her describe her vivid dreams.

So it made sense (after she rationalized) that she would feel more comfortable in Neville's apartment than she did in her own.

Hm, she was actually quite relaxed right now. She leaned back to lie flat on his couch and let her mug of tea rest on her stomach. This was nice. Everything was getting a little dark, and the sound of Neville rummaging around in his kitchen became a soothing white noise.

She barely heard Longbottom say something but she kept her eyes closed in the hopes that he would leave her alone and let her nap. Until a searing heat splashed over her stomach.

She sat up quickly with a scream. "Ow!"

"Did you spill your tea?" She didn't have time to reply because he was already upon her with a cool wet towel.

"I think I dozed off," she said.

He took out his wand and cast a _Scourgify_on her shirt, instantly drying it. She lifted the material from her skin a little to blow on it. The tea had burned her and the skin was already a bright, painful red.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, kneeling beside her on the couch.

"Yeah," she breathed as she flapped her shirt a little to get some cool air on her burned skin. "Ooh. What a stupid thing to do."

"Don't worry about that. Let me see," he said softly, taking the edge of her shirt with his fingers. He looked up at her. "Can I?" She nodded and he gently lifted the shirt upward, revealing her bellybutton, then her ribs.

"How does it look?" she asked, leaning back on the couch again. It was too painful to stay sitting up.

"I think I have something for it. Wait here, I'll just be downstairs a second." He left the room and she stayed on his couch, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to focus on the pain. It had gone from a blinding, searing pain to a more constant throbbing, hurting especially when she breathed.

A few moments later, Neville bounded back up the stairs with some leaves and hurried into his apartment. He grabbed a bowl and ran a little bit of water into it and added his plant mixture. He smashed it up with a spoon and knelt back down by Pansy.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Will it hurt?" She looked up at him and he shook his head.

"Just a little cold. It'll make the pain go straight away." She nodded for him to go ahead.

He could see very clearly where her tea had spilled on her stomach. Her shirt was pulled and bunched up right under her bra. The skin where the liquid had made contact was already red and blotchy. As carefully as he could, he dipped his fingers into the plant-mush he had made and applied it to her skin, starting just below her bellybutton. She gasped when his fingers made contact, but he kept going, as softly as he could. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her breathing.

He worked quietly, concentrating, being careful not to hurt her. Every time he dabbed a little more, she shifted and gasped a little. He tried his best to focus solely on her burned stomach, but he couldn't help but take glances at the rest of her. He couldn't help but notice the curve of her hips, how long her waste was. He was distracted by her soft stomach, when it contracted as she flinched and breathed.

He looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was biting her lip. Her breathes were coming out ragged.

He felt his face flush red and felt like a total sleaze. Here she was, in pain from a pretty serious burn, and he was taking advantage of her. It was totally wrong. He stopped checking her out and focused as hard as he could on covering her burn. Finally, he was done, but he found himself taking care to use as much of the plant concoction as possible. He tried to rationalize his actions by convincing himself that none of it should go to waste.

He finished and set the bowl down. "All done," he said, and she slowly opened her eyes and breathed easy. "How does it feel?"

"It's cold," she said, not daring to move. "It feels way better than burning, though."

"In about five minutes you can wash it off and your burn should be just about gone," he said, relieved that she was better.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I took the leaves from the Spearlo plant."

"Oh no, that's an expensive one," she said, looking at him from her position on the couch. He gave her a grin.

"I'll just take it out of your paycheck, then," he said, standing up.

"Hey," she protested at his teasing. "Do you mind if I just lay here for a few minutes?"

"Feel free," he said, remembering his sandwich in the kitchen. He needed something mundane to focus on, not her soft stomach. He sighed and took a bite. It was probably a sign that it had been way too long since he'd had a girlfriend if he was actually checking out Parkinson.

Pansy sighed, enjoying the cool feeling on her stomach. She let her stomach hang out in the cool air. The plant solution was drying on her stomach and it felt good.

"Do you hear a tapping noise?" Neville asked after swallowing a bite.

"No…" Pansy said, her voice sleepy.

"Just take a nap, I'll go get it," he said with a laugh. He descended the stairs quickly to see not one, but two owls tapping frantically at the window. Why they all refused to go upstairs to deliver the mail he would never know. He grabbed a treat for the birds and opened the window.

One owl glided gracefully inside, and the other stumbled in like it was drunk. Hermione's owl, and then Ron's. Neville chuckled and grasped the letters from each owl. The one from Pig was for him, from Ron and Hermione. There was no mistake, it was a wedding invitation.

He smiled. It was about time they sent these out. He took the other envelope from Hermione's owl to see an exact replica of the other letter. Except it was addressed to Pansy. He stared for a moment at the handwriting on the envelope as if it might give him answers. It surely had to be a wedding invitation, because it was the exact same as his letter. But why would Pansy be invited to the wedding of two people whom she had tormented in school? Maybe the letters weren't invitations after all?

He opened his own letter. Sure enough, it was an invitation. He walked up the stairs after letting the owls outside.

"What was the tapping?" Pansy asked, sounding a little more awake.

"Owls," he said. "You got something." She sat up from his couch.

"Really? I don't think anyone but Draco knows my address. I don't see why he'd mail me when he could just barge in," she said, holding her hand out for her parcel. Neville handed it to her, studying her for a reaction.

"It's from Hermione," he said. Pansy's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Of course," she said slowly, running her hand across the flap of the envelope. Actually, she had no idea why the girl would write her. Perhaps it was about her little secret? She carefully unfolded the paper. "A wedding invitation?"

"No offence, Pansy, but why would you get an invitation?" Neville asked.

"I have no idea," Pansy half-lied, her mind reeling. Was Hermione Granger making a friendly gesture? And why? Was she reaching out? Had Pansy actually made a friend in the bushy haired girl? She studied the letter and the beautiful handwriting. There was even a lovely engagement picture of the couple, smiling and elbowing each other.

There was a small, separate piece of paper. On it was only two words: _Thank you_. Pansy quickly grasped it and held it so Neville wouldn't see. She really wouldn't know how to explain it to him if he asked. Now that Hermione had reached out to her in… (was it friendship?) she couldn't betray her trust, could she?

"Are you going?" he asked, settling down on the couch across from her. She shrugged.

"Well… in high society, it would be horribly rude if I didn't at least make an appearance," she replied. Speaking of high society, it would make quite a wave she attended a Weasley event. She shook her head. "I don't think I can."

That surprised Neville. "Why wouldn't you? Is it because of Ron? Don't worry about him. He won't even be paying attention to you."

"Well, I don't know," she replied, running her fingers across the card stock paper. "I don't see why I shouldn't drop by for a few moments, but I surely wouldn't stay for long."

Neville shrugged. He couldn't make Pansy go somewhere she didn't want to. "Well, I'll be going and staying all night, so you'll know someone, at least," he said with a smile.

Pansy felt a strange strain of disappointment at his words, but she couldn't figure out why. She guessed that she'd figured he would offer to escort her to the event, but she quickly shook that feeling off. She couldn't expect someone like Neville (who she very much respected, but he hadn't grown up with the same breeding as she had) to know the ins and outs of etiquette.

"Oh, poor Granger," Pansy sighed, discreetly tucking Hermione's _Thank you_ into a pocket.

"Why 'poor Granger'?" Neville said with a laugh. "She's getting married. Or are you referring to the man she's marrying?"

"It's just that she won't get any decent gifts," she said with a smirk. "Perhaps Draco will have some kind of trinket he'd be willing to let me give her. A proper present." Neville rolled his eyes.

"She'll be fine," he said, looking up at her from his seat on the couch. "She'll be getting more gifts than she can handle."

"Yes, but not gifts suitable for a woman marrying into a pureblood family, excuse my language," she said quickly, raising her hand before Neville could protest. "What I'm saying is that it would be nice if someone could give her something a bit more traditional. Any bride deserves that."

"I'm not sure she cares that much, Parkinson. She's from a muggle family, anyway. She's not going to know the difference," he said. "And anyway, the Weasley's aren't that rich, she isn't expecting any kind of traditional pureblood… wedding urn, or whatever it is you rich people do."

Pansy gasped. A _wedding urn_? "You are ridiculous, Longbottom. An urn for a wedding? Any pureblood worth their salt would know you wait until the five year anniversary for that kind of thing."

Neville would have laughed if he hadn't known she was being serious. "Well, you know I didn't grow up in high society, Pans. Pansy," he corrected himself the instant her nickname had slipped out of his mouth.

"Oh," she said, momentarily surprised. "Well, Longbottom," she said after a second to break the tension. "Don't you have something you were going to do tonight?" He stood up quickly.

"Yes, my Gran," he said breathlessly. "At six. I guess I should get ready."

"I'll see you later, don't do anything too crazy," Pansy said with a sly smile. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh sure," he sighed, walking her to the door. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

"Not really, except Astoria may come over," she said. "She's going to help me with a little bit of decorating with the flat. Make it a little more homely, you know."

"Now all that's left to do is stay there every once in a while," he said with a grin. She smiled back and rolled her eyes.

"But then I'd have to get my own dishes." He shook his head. He didn't really even mind the company, but he almost felt guilty charging her any kind of rent while the only thing she used the space for was sleeping. "Have a good night," she said, waving as she slipped through the door of her apartment.

"Night," he replied, turning to get ready for the night.

* * *

><p>Neville sat across the table from his Uncle Avery and Gran, but there was one more addition to their party.<p>

A girl name Renee Waters.

Gran was making polite conversation with her, telling her all about Neville's business, and talking him up, but he knew what she was doing. It was a set-up. And she was doing it during a family dinner. He sighed, wondering how to get out of this situation.

It wasn't that Renee wasn't pretty or nice (she was actually both); it was just that he was tired of Gran trying to set him up with women. He was not interested in meeting girls through his grandmother, although when he'd finally gotten her alone for a moment she'd insisted that since he wasn't meeting them on his own… she was "just giving him a little push".

_Into insanity_, he thought bitterly.

He sighed and listened to his Gran talking. She was boasting about Renee's many accomplishments. He took a glance at the girl. She wasn't ugly, actually, not at all. She was petite, with long blond hair and brown eyes. She was smiling politely at his grandmother's conversation, and Neville didn't know how she did it. She seemed very easy-going, kind of like him.

He had to agree that she wasn't that bad. Renee looked at Neville and smiled at him. He gave her a small smile back.

* * *

><p>Pansy and Astoria were sitting on the living room floor in her apartment, snacking and working on their individual decoration projects. It was dark now, and the light of the moon filtered through the window, making the lanterns in the living room almost unnecessary.<p>

"Oh Astoria, don't you dare start smoking in here," Pansy said, snatching the cigarette out of her friend's hand.

"You don't like the smell of smoke, Pans?" Astoria teased. "Fine. You and Draco never let me have fun."

"How is he doing, anyway?" Pansy asked. They were sitting together on the ground, slipping photos into frames to put up on the wall later.

Astoria frowned. "Well, actually, right now he's with his parents. Talking about us." Pansy's mouth formed an O.

"Oh, how do you think it's going?"

Astoria shrugged. "I'm trying not to be nervous. It shouldn't be that big of a deal, since I'm a pureblood. Honestly, the problem is that my family is… well, you know. We have a reputation, especially us girls." Pansy shrugged.

"He's probably just being careful of Narcissa. She's a little sensitive," Pansy stated. "She wants to keep her family close to her."

"I understand that," the blond said with a nod. "I just get nervous sometimes that even if his parents are okay with everything, they'll have a certain amount of control over things we do."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "That's Draco for you. Really, that man will follow his mother to the grave." She couldn't really blame him though, after everything that had happened. Pansy wondered for a moment if Draco could have picked a better day besides the anniversary of the Final Battle to tell his parents big news.

"I also get the feeling that he likes sneaking around," the other girl laughed. The girls fell silent when they heard a set of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Actually, two sets of footsteps.

"Is that Neville?" Astoria whispered. Pansy frowned and stood close to the door to peer out the peephole.

It was Longbottom alright. But there was somebody else with him.

A girl.

Pansy couldn't control the gasp that escaped her lips and she covered her mouth. Astoria crept to try and steal a glance from the peephole as well. She gasped as well.

"Is he taking a girl into his place?" she asked, a little above a whisper. Pansy quickly slapped her hand onto Astoria's mouth. "Mmmphh!"

Pansy continued to watch. Neville was grinning and laughing, she could faintly hear them through the door.

"I had a really good time tonight," a feminine voice floated through the door.

"Even with my Gran, huh?" he replied, sticking the key into the door and turning it. "Only a few girls have ever survived her."

"I'm not just any girl," the girl giggled and her curly blond hair bounced. "Well, I know I'm only really up here to have a cup of coffee with you. But I was thinking I could stay for a while. You know. To talk some more."

"Ugh, what a thing to say," whispered Astoria. "To talk? As if."

"What kind of floozy says things like that?" Pansy whispered back, feeling thoroughly disgusted. People these days raised their children with no manners, no sense of dignity. She had half a mind to go out there and lecture her (never mind that she had made out with a guy behind a bar recently. It was totally different!).

But the worst part was that Longbottom didn't even seem to notice! Didn't he have standards? No one could like a girl that said things like that!

"Sure, whatever you like," Neville answered smoothly, opening the door and gesturing for her to come in. Suddenly, Pansy took hold of the door handle and flung it open. Astoria tumbled forward, crying out in surprise.

"Longbottom!" Pansy blurted. "Astoria and I were waiting up for you to see if you'd like to… to tag along with us to the coffee shop. It's open late tonight, you know." She looked over to the shocked blond on his arm. "Oh, hello. I'm Pansy, Neville's neighbor. And you are?" Her words had come out so fast that she could barely hear what she had just said.

"I'm Renee," the girl said slowly, holding out her hand for Pansy to shake. Shake! Ha! She really did have no manners, Pansy concluded smugly. _Society_ women did not shake hands with one another. She held her own hand out anyway, knowing that she would look bad if she didn't return the gesture.

"Pansy, so nice to meet you," she replied graciously, gently grasping the hand, resisting the shake. Astoria was finally up, brushing herself off.

"I'm Astoria," she said, shaking Renee's hand enthusiastically. "So pleased to meet you."

Neville watched, just barely absorbing the shock of Pansy and Astoria's abrupt arrival. What were they doing? Why had Astoria stumbled out of the door and practically rolled out into the hallway?

"Er, hullo, Astoria. Parkinson," he said, trying to be polite despite his slight irritation at being interrupted. It really would be just his luck to see a really good date end before he could see it through.

"Parkinson?" Renee asked. "The girl from the paper?" Oh no, Neville thought. Pansy's face turned a bright pink.

"No," his neighbor said, her voice almost harsh. "We just happen to share a name."

"Oh, that's unfortunate," Renee said softly. Pansy's face now flushed a dark red, visible even in the low light. Neville cleared his throat.

"Er, actually, Pansy, we were just going to stay in, if that's okay. Get a little peace and quiet after visiting my Gran."

"Of course!" Pansy replied, her voice sliding up an octave for reasons he couldn't fathom. What had gotten into her? "Have a good night, the two of you! I'll see you tomorrow, Neville, bright and early. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She was rambling now, and Astoria began to push her back into her flat.

"Good night, Parkinson," Neville said slowly. Pansy waved and finally shut the door. The two Slytherins were finally inside and he looked down at his date apologetically. She just shrugged her shoulders and gave a smile. "Sorry about that," he said.

"Oh, it's no problem at all," she replied. "I'm not scared off that easy." Neville could have sworn he'd heard someone whisper a swear word from behind Pansy's door, but decided it was just his imagination. Pansy had no reason to swear at his date anyway, did she?

"That's good," he told Renee. "Are you sure you still want to come in? Even with my strange family and my odd neighbor?" The girl flashed him a brilliant smile and walked in the door.

* * *

><p>Pansy sat back on the ground, her cheeks on fire. Astoria stared at her. "Is there something you're not telling me?" she asked softly, sitting next to her friend on the ground.<p>

"Not at all," Pansy breathed, placing her cold hands on her cheeks, hoping to cool them off. "It's just that, that, did you hear what she said? 'Oh, how unfortunate'! To share a name with Pansy Parkinson! And then Longbottom said he had an odd neighbor. What—what a thing to say! Can you imagine?"

Astoria looked back at her, an unreadable look on her face. "Pansy, we did barge in on his date. It isn't like you to be so… loud, I guess. Not that I disapprove, because your boss is a dish, but—"

"What?" Pansy asked, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing all over again. "What are you saying?"

"You just tried to cockblock your boss, Pans!" Astoria said. "What else could that have been?"

"That girl was way too forward, Astoria," she replied. "I had to do something. I just wanted to meet her, that's all."

"Oh sure," Astoria sighed. "You know what you're doing, I suppose."

"I certainly do. But you're right, I was terribly rude. I think that I'm just tired," Pansy said.

"I need to go soon anyway," her friend said. "Check on Draco, see how it went. Good night, Pansy."

"Good night, Astoria."

Pansy was left alone in her apartment. She sighed. What _had_ gotten into her? She stood and walked to her couch, (or her bed, as she saw it) and crawled underneath the covers. She was tired, that much she was sure of. She just needed to get some rest and she would feel like herself in the morning, ready for a day of hard work with Longbottom.

It seemed only moments later that she woke up in the early morning to find a peach-pink letter on her counter with her name on it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Oh my goodness. Another lady in the mix? Oh no!

But don't you worry, guys. I'm not too big into love triangles, so this is just a little thing I'm dabbling into.

And what is this letter that Pansy has just received?

It will all be revealed in the next dramatic chapter, which should actually be pretty exciting. I really hope you enjoyed this, guys! And even though I don't deserve your love, I humbly ask for reviews. :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I felt kind of iffy about it but it's the best I can do at the moment until I get into the swing of things. :) Thank you so much for reading.

Also, as I say every time, I love your suggestions. So PM me or review!

Deena


	9. A heist

**A/N:** Ummm, yeah, it's been like 9 months since I updated? Ughhh please don't throw rocks at me!

* * *

><p>The letter read:<p>

_Dearest Pansy,_

_Astoria and I are leaving tonight on a private trip to France. Private, as in don't tell my mother where we are. I'm telling you because I'd hate to have you worry over me—you look so ugly when you cry._

_Anyway, we'll be back within the week. If you tell anyone where we went I'll hex your mouth off._

_With all of my love,_

_Draco_

Pansy snorted. So Draco had told his parents about Astoria, they hadn't reacted well, and he'd jetted off to France to run away. She sighed and turned the paper over to see more feminine handwriting.

_P.S. Pansy, thank you for being such a wonderful friend to me! See you soon!_

_A. G._

Well. This was probably one of the silliest things Draco had done yet. She sighed and tucked the letter safely into a drawer. She heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

"Pansy," Neville said as he entered her doorway, out of breath. "I just woke up and saw that the wards have been broken—"

She waved her hand. "It was Draco, I'm so sorry," she said with exasperation.

"I'm surprised he got through the wards at all," he said, joining her in the kitchen.

"He's quite the sneak. Anyway, I'm sorry. He likes to be secretive. He didn't even wake me up, just left me a note."

"A note?"

"Yeah." She pulled the note back out of the drawer to show him. He wasn't the type to go running to the tabloids to tell everyone about it, so she knew it wouldn't do any harm. His eyes scanned over the note.

"France, hm? Why?"

"Well… I'm guessing that his mother didn't take the news about them very well."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I have coffee over at mine, if you want to have some before we start the day."

She normally wasn't a coffee person, but she wasn't in the mood to brew a pot of tea. "Sure."

* * *

><p>Although the news of Draco and Astoria running away to France was unusual news, the morning was normal, even pleasant. They were mixing compost and watering plants, performing small tasks around the shop before opening time. Pansy was itching to ask Neville more about the girl that he'd brought home last night (the idea made her feel a little nauseous, but it was just because of how improper it all was), but she held her tongue.<p>

Well, not really.

"So…" she started, unable to resist. "Who was that girl last night?"

"Renee?" he said, a grin forming on his face.

"Yes. Weren't you supposed to be having dinner with your Gran?"

"I was. She brought Renee along."

Pansy tried not to sneer, she really did. "Your grandma set you up?"

"She's always doing stuff like that, trying to set me up with girls," he sighed. "But this one is actually tolerable."

"You like her?" Pansy really didn't want to know, but she couldn't help but pry.

Neville just shrugged in response. "We stayed up pretty late last night just talking. It was nice."

Just talking. That was dumb, she thought. You can talk to anyone. "Are you going to take her out on another date? A real one, that is?" she asked, keeping her voice amiable. She didn't know why she was feeling so weird about it. It was just Longbottom, and she didn't give two hollers about his love life.

"Yeah, I think so. Couldn't hurt."

"You seem enthused," she said with a laugh. "I think you should go for it. _Someone _around here needs a love life." Why, why, why had she said that? She didn't want to encourage this relationship. The girl obviously had no proper breeding.

Well… neither did Neville, she supposed. Even she had to admit that her own reasoning wasn't very sound. And that was rare.

"What's that tapping on the window?" she asked, turning her head and squinting her eyes. "It's too early for customers."

"Go check, tell them we don't open 'till ten. I'm elbow deep in dirt," he said with a smile. She wiped her hands onto her pants, smearing them with mud, and walked to the front window.

"We're closed," she said. The person just kept tapping on the glass door. They probably just didn't hear her. She opened the door. "Sorry, we don't open until—"

_FLASH._

She was blinded by a sudden bright light, and then the person was gone. "Was that—was that—?" She let out an indignant cry and started running out the door after the photographer.

"Get back here!" she yelled, pursuing the offender down the street. The reporter just turned around and snapped another picture while running backwards.

She had to admit, that took skill.

"Stop taking pictures!" she cried. She was vaguely aware of people in the alley staring at her, and Neville running behind her.

"How does it feel to be cast out of the fold, Pansy Parkinson? Care to comment?" the reporter yelled back at her.

She was running out of breath. She stopped for a moment, feeling her heart pound. It had been a while since she'd had to really run anywhere. Neville raced past her, still in pursuit of the reporter.

And then he was gone. The strange man apparated to Merlin knows where, leaving Pansy and Neville in the dust. Longbottom walked back to her.

"They know where I work, now," she panted, hands on her knees. Neville patted her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Parkinson," he said. "People see you here every day. It was bound to happen."

"That's not fair!" she cried. She would have stomped her foot if she wasn't so out of breath. "Cast out of the fold. Ha! Care to comment?" she imitated in a nasally voice, feeling petulant.

"Let's get back," he said with a sigh, reaching out his hand and pulling her upright.

* * *

><p>The next day, her picture was in the paper. She was standing at the door of Longbottom's Botany, covered in dirt, looking pathetic. The headline read, <strong>How the Mighty Have Fallen!<strong> By Rita Skeeter.

Of course.

After work was done for that day, she decided to pay a visit to the Malfoys. She was worried about Narcissa—how exactly had his family reacted to the news? Also, she was curious. Did the Malfoys know where he was and who he was with?

"Oh, Pansy!" Mrs. Malfoy exclaimed when she stepped into the drawing room. "How are you my dear? We weren't expecting you today." Her eyes looked a little red, like she had been crying. Mr. Malfoy was seated in his usual chair, looking stiffer than usual.

"I just thought I'd drop by," Pansy said sweetly. "How are you, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Oh! I'm fine. We're absolutely fine today," the older woman replied, a strained smile on her face. "Why don't you sit down with us, we're about to have some tea."

Pansy nodded and sat down, folding her hands in her lap, her mind racing. "I'd love to."

Narcissa poured Pansy a cuppa and took her place on a settee. "So, Pansy," she said. "How are you faring, dear? Are you enjoying having your very own little apartment?"

"Yes, I was lucky to find such a nice place to stay," Pansy replied politely.

"And right in Diagon Alley. Really, you are so clever to have found somewhere there. It's a nice, safe place for a young lady like yourself."

"I had help from Neville Longbottom," she replied, taking a sip of her tea.

"A good boy," Mr. Malfoy said. "How kind of him to help you, as well as employ you." This statement surprised her. Lucius Malfoy, saying something nice about someone as low in society as Longbottom?

"Yes, he's been very helpful to me," she said with a smile.

"We'll have to pay her a visit soon, won't we, dear?" Narcissa said to Lucius. "My, we haven't even given you a house-warming gift. How silly of us to forget. I'm sure you'd like some dishes, Pansy. After tea, we'll go into the attic and I'll let you pick out your very own set."

"Oh, that's too generous, Mrs. Malfoy—"

"Nonsense! I insist," the woman said with a big smile.

"Thank you, you're always so generous," Pansy said, feeling truly grateful. Then she remembered what she was there for in the first place. Information. "Oh, I was hoping to see Draco today, maybe ask him if he wanted to go on a walk with me tonight. Have you seen him?" she asked casually. Lucius and Narcissa both tensed up and looked at each other.

Bingo.

"Well, my dear," Narcissa started, looking distressed. "Draco is… well, right now…" She looked helplessly at her husband, who sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat.

"Right now he's busy, in Romania," he said. "We have some ancient family relics there, you see. We've decided to send him on his own to retrieve one of them. It's a good experience."

"Oh! I had no idea he was going. He's so lucky, I've always loved it there." Pansy replied. So this was how the Malfoys were going to play it. It was smart, she supposed—if they still had hope that she and Draco would get together, they would never tell her that he'd run off somewhere with a girl. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"Oh, ah, well, you see, sometimes the artifacts are difficult to retrieve, so there's no telling. Perhaps in a week or two? We'll be sure to forward his next letter to us," Lucius said.

Aha! So they didn't know where he was or when he was coming back. "Speaking of letters, has my father written you, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Narcissa looked happy to change the subject. "Oh! Yes, how could I forget? I've just been so distracted today," she said, standing up. "You must follow me into the drawing room and I'll give it to you. It arrived just today. Then we'll go into the attic and I'll give you your housewarming gift."

They retrieved the letter, and Pansy tucked it into her pocket to read later. Mrs. Malfoy looked delighted to have a distraction. She led Pansy up to the attic and let her choose her own set of antique (and very expensive) dishes.

"Oh, I've always wanted a daughter to give these to," the older woman sighed. "It's too bad Draco was the only child I had."

Pansy didn't know what to say in reply. The two stood in the attic together for a moment; Narcissa sighing and Pansy fiddling with the dishes. "Oh, Pansy. All I've wanted is the happiness of my family. You and your father, too. It was so hard on him… and you, too, when your mother died."

Pansy still said nothing. She rarely thought of her mother—she'd loved her, yes, but when she'd died, she did what any other Parkinson did. She buried it and tried to forget.

Narcissa took a breath and continued. "What I mean is… if it isn't too inappropriate, I've appreciated having you around. And no matter what… I'd like to keep it that way. All through your life, you must visit us, even when we're old." Her blue eyes were shining.

Pansy could read between the lines. Narcissa was trying to prepare her for heartbreak; she didn't think that she knew about Astoria. And the gesture was so sweet and so sincere that for a moment, Pansy felt terrible about lying for Draco. She felt a lump in her throat.

"I'll always come around to see you, Mrs. Malfoy," she said, feeling tears in her eyes. "Thank you for… the dishes. I've really needed a set, actually."

"Of course, my dear. Anything for you." She reached out and gave her hand a little pat. "I hope I haven't kept you from anything tonight."

"Oh, no, not at all! Actually, I did have a question. An etiquette question, you might say."

"Of course. What is it?"

"I've been invited to a wedding. A… Weasley event, actually."

"Oh. Oh my," Narcissa replied. "You're talking about Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. It's been in the papers for weeks."

"Yes. Should I… I mean, I shouldn't snub the invitation, should I?"

The older woman took a moment to think. "I suppose it could be considered rude not to make an appearance… but the situation is a little different, don't you agree? But you _were_ invited personally."

"Yes. By the bride, actually. She and I bumped into each other and talked for a little bit," Pansy said. "The conversation was actually not so bad."

"Then you must go," Narcissa advised. "And bring a proper gift. You have a rare chance to improve your social standing."

"It's not too bold? You know… Harry Potter will be there. And I…"

"That's in the past, Pansy," she said firmly. "Take a traditional approach, and no one can accuse you of doing wrong. So you must arrive, and bring her something valuable."

"Something for her posterity," Pansy sighed.

"That's the tradition," Narcissa said. She was right, Pansy thought. If she extended to Hermione a traditional gift, it might do something to make amends for all the years of torment, and maybe start them on a path of real friendship. And she really did want that. She wanted to make up for the things she'd said about Harry Potter, and she wanted to make up for making fun of all of his friends… most of all, Neville.

It was also a chance to improve her family's standing in society (even if her family was pretending that she didn't exist, the sods). If the gift was well-received, there could be good changes on the way.

"What could I give her?" she asked, feeling determined. "It must be exceptional. Something to show that the Parkinsons are serious about reconciliation."

"Oh, it could be many things, as long as she can pass it down to her children and grandchildren. Its value should increase throughout the years."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. You've been such a help to me," Pansy said.

"Like I said, dear, anything for you!"

* * *

><p>The wedding was in one week.<p>

Pansy had hatched a plan. A daring plan. A possibly illegal plan.

"Longbottom," she said one evening. "Are you planning on doing anything tonight?"

Neville looked up at her and cocked a brow. "I've got a thing with Renee. Did you need something?" Pansy scrunched up her nose and tried not to think about that ill-bred girl. She had bigger fish to fry.

"I have an errand to run tonight and I was wondering if you might like to join me."

"What errand?" he asked, ever helpful. "If we're done by eight, I can help you."

"I think we should be done by then," she replied. "It's just a simple little thing."

"A simple little thing?" he repeated, starting to feel suspicious. She looked a little _too_ casual at the moment, sitting on his couch and examining her nails.

"I need to go home to retrieve some things," she said. He frowned.

"But you can't go home, can you? Aren't you not allowed?

"It's my home, and I'll go whenever I want to." Okay, so maybe it wasn't the truth. But this was a mission of the utmost importance. "There are some things there that I really need, Longbottom."

"I think it's breaking and entering," he said flatly, crossing his arms. She hated that look. The goody two-shoes look.

"So Gryffindor," she muttered. "I thought you liked sneaking around. I thought you were good at it."

He could see now that she was playing on his pride, and it wouldn't work. "None of the things at your manor are yours, though."

"I'll have you know that my cat is still there," she said, starting to get a little angry. "And that yes, there _are _things in my home that belong to me." She took a breath to calm down. She needed his help and she wasn't going to get it this way. "Listen, if Draco was here, I'd ask him to help me. But he isn't here. And I know that you may not understand my reasons, but they aren't silly. Won't you please help me?"

He frowned. A part of him actually wanted to help her. He actually kind of liked that she was coming to him to ask a favor, like a real friend would. "What's your plan?" he asked with a sigh.

"There are tunnels that lead into my house," she said. "I know them in and out. Once we're in the house, no one will be able to see us. My father won't be home until ten at night, and the house elves won't rat us out."

"What are you getting?"

She frowned, not knowing how to answer. If he knew what she needed, he would probably just bail out. He wouldn't understand. "I can't tell you," she replied reluctantly. "But it's essential."

Neville thought for a moment. It was probably one of the sketchiest plans he'd heard since his Hogwarts days. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes, biting her lip.

"Please?"

And that's what did it. He _had_ to help now. "Fine. But only if we're done by eight, alright?" She jumped up from the couch and nearly hugged him. Nearly.

"Let's go right now, and then we can get you back in time for your date," she said.

Neither of them knew what they were in for.

* * *

><p>Neville followed Pansy through the cool dirt tunnels under her manor. "These have been here since the eighth century," she said, her hands touching the cool dirt around them. The tunnels were wide and lit by floating candles.<p>

"How do you know how to find your way around under here?" he asked, taking note of all the spirals and intersecting tunnels.

"I don't," she replied, and he nearly had a heart attack. She laughed at the look on his face, much to his dismay. "I'm joking, of course. I've been wandering these tunnels and the manor for my whole life. I know this place like the back of my hand."

He continued to follow her until she stopped suddenly. "I think it's… right here," she said, placing both hands above her to push upward into the dirt. Something moved and he saw the light coming from her empty house. "Got it," she muttered, climbing up into the hole and waving her hand for him to follow. Once they were in the house, she replaced the covering and cast a cleaning spell to get rid of the dirt.

"Where are we?" he whispered.

"We're in the grand hall. Just down that way is the ballroom," she whispered back, pointing to the left. "But we're going to my mother's old study, which is on the floor above. Let's go."

They made the short trek upstairs. Neville watched Pansy's face as she passed all of the rooms that she surely knew by heart. Her face was dead serious, no hint of a smile left on her lips. It was kind of sad, actually, to watch her wander through the home that she couldn't go back to.

"Here," she said, stopping at one of the doors. She set her hand on the doorknob, looking almost reluctant to open it. She let out a soft laugh. "I haven't been in this room since my mother died."

He suddenly felt like he was witnessing something very personal. "Uh… should I wait out here?" he asked, feeling useless.

"Yeah, I need you to be the lookout," she said. He nodded and she slipped into the room without a sound.

The study was small, compared to the rest of the rooms in the manor. There was a desk, a nice chair. And then there was what she came for—the trunk.

She knelt down beside it and pulled out her wand. It had been a while since she'd used a shrinking spell, but she was sure that she could cast it correctly. She had to try it a few times before getting it right, but she was able to shrink the chest enough so that she could carry it in one arm.

Right before she opened the door, she heard a knock. She cracked it open.

"Someone's in the manor," he whispered. She slipped out of the room quickly and led him down the hallway to the stairs. Sure enough, there _was_ someone in the manor—which was highly unplanned for.

"Hurry behind me," she whispered, crouching and sneaking down the stairs. That's where the noise was coming from, but it was also the only way out. She could hear a deep, man's voice, distinctly her fathers. The other voice was a woman's.

Her stomach dropped. It wasn't just any woman. It was her grandmother. The one who'd ousted her from the family. What was she doing here?

"Did you hear a noise, dearie?" the shrill voice floated to Pansy and Neville's ears. Her eyes got wide and she looked at him.

She opened the door to a large storage closet and pulled Neville in with her.

* * *

><p>And in the closet they sat.<p>

And sat.

After about an hour of listening to her father and grandmother talking, Neville felt like he was about to snap. They were seriously making _small talk_. They were blood relations, making small talk for a whole hour. They were never going to leave this closet. The time on his watch read 7:45.

There was no way he'd make it to his date with Renee.

"It's late," he whispered to Pansy, who was holding onto her shrunken chest.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered back. "I really didn't think they were going to be here."

He sighed and rubbing his forehead for a moment, trying to calm down and not get angry. It had been a long time since he'd hidden out in tiny spaces, and there was a reason for that. He was honestly considering just jumping out of the closet and getting caught, if it meant breathing in fresh air.

Pansy shifted beside him. "They'll be done soon," she promised. "They're just warming up. Daddy's about to get to the point. I know how he talks."

Neville sure hoped she was right.

"… Mother, I was hoping to have a serious conversation with you tonight. Oh, are you enjoying those tarts?"

"Oh yes, certainly," the old lady's voice sounded through the door. Neville looked at Pansy, who was listening intently. "Do get to the point, my dear. I'm rather tired."

"Well, Mother, it's about Pansy."

The girl beside him stiffened, and clutched even tighter to her trunk. Neville felt like he was eavesdropping, and that Pansy would probably never want him to listen in on a conversation like this. He felt guilty for even listening, but he didn't have a choice.

"I've told you once, and I'll tell you again, Henry! I won't hear of taking her back! You know that this family has a standard to uphold."

"Yes, mother."

"I've read that book by Francois Tumble. And Rita Skeeter's articles are very convincing. She's a smart woman. But as I was saying, her grandmother—your wife's mother, had an affair with a muggleborn. You know that we take blood purity very seriously in this family, Henry."

"Yes, but isn't it possible that the man is _lying_?" he asked, sounding defeated, as if he'd made this argument many times before.

"As I've said, I read the book. I'm convinced. And don't you think it explains so much about your Pansy? You know, she never was too brilliant, like the rest of our family." Neville took a look at the girl in question. Her face was contorted into an expression he'd never seen on her before—anger, sadness, doubt.

It reminded him of himself as a younger boy. It almost hurt to look at her.

Pansy's grandmother continued. "Her magic was never really as strong as it should be. Don't think I haven't noticed, Henry, I see everything. And don't you think it's almost reassuring? Her failures aren't _really_ her fault. She just doesn't have the capacity for success, like a good, honest pureblood."

"I'm not sure…"

"Well, I am sure," the old woman said with finality.

"Yes, mother." Her father sounded angry and defeated. Why wasn't he defending Pansy? He wondered.

"I must be going now. I told your sister I'd be having dinner with her. Wouldn't you like to come along?"

"I'm feeling tired," her father said with a sigh.

"I insist! You need the support of your family, Henry. Get ready to go, we mustn't be late!"

Neville and Pansy waited in the dark for a few minutes, until they heard the tell-tale sounds of a floo being opened.

Her father and grandmother were long gone, but they didn't move right away. It was too dark to tell for sure, but he could hear sniffling beside him—she was crying, or at least trying not to. He put him arm around her shoulders for a moment and squeezed, trying to offer some kind of friendly comfort.

He'd felt what she was feeling. He knew what it was like when people said things that made you feel stupid, or less than what you were. Ironically, Pansy herself had been one of the people to make him feel that way. And as much as he had fantasized about seeing her cut down as a teenager, it made him sick to witness it for real.

* * *

><p>It was ten at night before they got back home. Pansy had stayed silent the whole way; through the house, the tunnels, and while they walked up the stairs to their apartments.<p>

"Thanks for coming along," she said softly before opening her door. "I'm sorry about the time it took. I'm sure you could still catch up with your date."

She sounded so despondent that Neville wasn't sure if he should go at all. "Are you alright alone?"

"Yeah, it's fine," she replied, shifting the trunk to her other arm. "I'll have to sort through these things anyway. You can tell Renee that you're late because of me."

He wasn't going to tell Renee that, but her offer made him feel guilty. "Don't worry, I'm not going to do that," he said with a smile. "Are you sure you don't want some company?"

She smiled, finally, and it made him feel a little less worried. "No, I'm fine. I want to sort through these things alone, anyway."

"You dragged me through all that just to keep that chest a secret?" he said, and she laughed.

"I'll show you later," she promised. "Now get out of my flat, Longbottom!" She shooed him out the door and he smiled.

"Later, Parkinson. Good night."

* * *

><p>Pansy opened the now normal-sized chest in her living room, and carefully removed the objects from within. There were a lot of things—mostly jewelry, some diaries that her mother had kept, old dresses passed down from mother to daughter ten times over.<p>

She sighed with relief when she'd found what she was looking for. It was a small, heavy jewelry box, encrusted with diamonds and emeralds, glittering and beautiful. She set it down carefully onto the floor and opened it. The clasp was made of gold, and to her delight, it worked perfectly. The inside was lined with felt, and there were a few earrings and necklaces inside.

Her mother's old jewelry. Or, more accurately, _her_ old jewelry. What lie in the trunk was hers from her mother, passed on from her mother, and her mother, and so on. She was only supposed to get this chest when she got married, but she figured that her situation counted as an extenuating circumstance. If she hadn't taken this now, there was no guarantee that she'd ever get it at all.

She removed the jewelry and carefully wiped the dust off of the box. Hermione Granger would be receiving this box as a wedding gift. And if all worked out, she would be one step closer to redeeming her image.

The box was so beautiful that Pansy almost wished that she wasn't going to be giving it away, but she had to remind herself of what was important. She needed to people to know that she was a good person, not some blood-purist lunatic. This gift was her grand gesture, to show everyone that she was different from her family, different from her grandmother.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **OKAY everyone. It's been like 9 months since I've updated. And omg I am so sorry! :( Please forgive me. I am but nothing, a pathetic worm!

I've just been busy and writer's blocked. Especially with this fic. There were some major things about it that bugged me and it kept me from writing on it, but I finally got my butt in gear and edited so that I liked it better. There aren't huge changes, but I corrected my galleons-to-dollars amounts (I know that bugged some of you) and I just got rid of Pansy's ten year probation thing.

You guys, give me another chance! I WILL REDEEM MYSELF.

Alright, so more about this chapter:

Pansy is trying to change, and show people that she is more mature. She's finally figuring out who she is, but making mistakes along the way. I started this fic originally to see if I could make a flawed character grow—am I doing a good job?

Also, I hope my Neville isn't too boring or flat. I'm having trouble writing for men, lately, for whatever reason.

Review and tell me what you think!


	10. Two weddings

Pansy stood in her small bedroom, smoothing her dress and trying to pick out a pair of earrings. Hermione's gift sat on the counter in the kitchen, set inside a gift box and wrapped with a bow.

She dug through the jewelry that she'd found in her mother's chest and finally picked out a pair of pearls. It was simple and classy. She looked at the mirror one last time.

A simple, square-neck floral print dress. Short sleeves, just under the knees. Modest and simple. No one could accuse her of being frivolous, that was for sure, but it would have to do. She hadn't really thought to bring any dress robes when she'd moved out of her house and she could afford to buy anything new.

She left her flat, gift box in hand, and knocked on Neville's door. He answered, clad in black dress robes, his bowtie still hanging around his neck. "Can't get the tie," he muttered, letting her in. "Oh, you really did get them a gift," he said, surprised.

She set the box down on his counter and beckoned him closer. "Come here, let me tie your bow for you," she said. He watched her as she concentrated on his bowtie. She looked nice, he thought. He'd sort of expected her to go to the wedding in something more… elaborate, but she was just in a simple dress, with simple make-up.

"I always had to do this for Daddy," she said with a sigh, pulling on his bowtie to make it perfect, and she stepped back. "There, it's perfect. Wow, Longbottom, you clean up nice!"

"Thanks. You look nice too," he said, embarrassed. She picked her gift box back up. "What did you get for them?"

"An antique jewelry box," she replied. "They'd better like it. It's worth a fortune." He would have assumed that she was exaggerating, but one could never know for sure with the rich pureblood families. "Listen," she said, "I don't have a date, and you don't have a date. Maybe we could arrive together? You know, just so we don't look silly showing up alone."

"Erm, actually… I do have a date," Neville replied. Pansy's eyes went wide and he felt a little guilty. "I'm taking Renee."

"Oh," she said, looking surprised. "My mistake. Well, it's a little early to be taking her to a wedding, don't you think?" she asked with a laugh.

"I was worried she'd say the same thing, but she didn't mind," he said with a grin. Pansy nearly rolled her eyes. What a dating faux pas. Going to a wedding together after only a few weeks?

"Good for you, then!" she replied, plastering a smile on her face. Renee bugged her, and she couldn't quite place her finger on why. Not that she'd ever tell Neville—he was too loyal of a person to hear negative things about his friends. Or "love interests".

"Yeah," he said. "I've got to go by Renee's to pick her up. See you at the wedding?"

"Of course," she replied, suddenly feeling nervous. She was highly aware that no one she associated with would be at the event, which meant that she'd be all alone. "I'll use the floo right after you. What should I say, again?"

"Tell the floo to take you to the Burrow," he said, stepping into the floo. "I'll see you there, Parkinson. 14D, Flitty Lane!" he yelled as he tossed the floo powder into the fireplace, leaving her alone.

She sighed as she stepped into the fireplace after him, her stomach filled with nervous butterflies. Throwing the floo powder, she mustered her confidence and said: "The Burrow!"

* * *

><p>The Weasley home, Pansy had always heard, was a crooked pile of brick and wood, held together by magic. And the rumors were true. She'd managed to wander outside, and people were so busy bustling around that almost no one noticed her.<p>

The backyard was lovely, in a quaint sort of way. There were large, white tents, providing shade for the party-goers. There were red-heads everywhere, milling about, talking to guests.

She found a seat under a tent that had several round tables under it. She sat at a table all by herself, keeping her gift on her lap and watching the people around her. She couldn't see Neville or his date yet. She silently wondered if there was a way for her to find Hermione now, give her the gift, and then get the heck out of there.

A few people were starting to look her way and the feeling that she didn't belong was getting stronger and stronger every moment.

She could see people beginning to gather in chairs facing a large gazebo, while Molly Weasley yelled for everyone to gather round to watch the ceremony. She got up and walked out, hoping to blend in with the crowd, and took a seat in the very back. She began searching for Neville. Where was he? Even if he was with a date, it would've been nice to at least sit with someone she knew.

She spotted Harry Potter and his wife standing up front—she guessed that Potter was the best man while Ginny was the Maid of Honor. Ron Weasley himself stood in the middle, his hair slicked back, wearing old traditional wizard's dress robes. He looked almost as ridiculous as he had at the Yule Ball.

In the front seats sat a group of red-heads, and just a few seats back from them was where she spotted Neville and his blond-haired date. He was smiling at her, and putting his arm around the back of her chair.

She hated to think it… but they made a cute couple. Renee looked gorgeous; her hair and make-up were perfect, her dress was cute and flattering. She was smiling at something he said.

Pansy sighed, her feeling of being out-of-place amplified. Music started playing and she looked back and gasped, along with the rest of the crowd.

Hermione Granger looked angelic. She wore a beautiful lacey white dress, and she was dripping in pearls. Pansy memorized the ensemble, storing the memory away for her own imaginary wedding. Her hair was shining in the sun, and it made it look like she was wearing a halo.

Who knew? Granger was a knock out.

The ceremony was beautiful, Pansy had to admit. She hadn't thought that a Weasley event could be so… classy. After it was over, the guests cheered and whooped and threw rice as Hermione and Ron made their way back down the aisle together.

"Time to eat, everyone! The buffet is right over there!" Someone yelled, and people began to make their way over to the food tent. There were lights strung around a make-shift dance floor, and soon, everyone was either eating or dancing.

There was a line of people waiting to talk to the bride and groom, so Pansy reluctantly stood to wait, her gift in hand. She was feeling increasingly more awkward, even more so when the couple and their friends saw her approach the front of the line.

Pansy almost rolled her eyes when Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter tensed up and placed their hands closer to their hips, where she knew they were keeping their wands. As if she was going to hex them in the middle of a crowd of their friends.

Hermione, on the other hand, greeted her with a smile. "You actually came," she said.

"Of course," Pansy replied with a polite smile.

"What's she doing here?" Ron muttered to Potter, who shrugged.

"I invited her, Ronald, be polite," Hermione scolded, trying keeping a smile on her face.

"No one ran this by me!"

"No one had to!" the bride replied. It seemed like this type of bickering was normal for the two, but Pansy still felt uncomfortable in the line of fire; she already felt out of place enough.

"I…" Pansy had to clear her throat. "I came here to express my happiness at your union," she said, repeating words that she'd heard when she'd attended traditional high-society weddings. "And to give the bride a special gift, for you and your posterity."

"Oh, thank you," Hermione said graciously.

"There's a gift table at the gate," Ron grumbled. Pansy's face flushed. She wondered exactly how inappropriate it would be if she punched him in the mouth.

"This is a gift that should be presented to the couple in person," she said, trying to stay amiable. "A traditional gift."

"What is it? Poison?"

"Ronald! Stop it right now." Hermione smacked him on the shoulder and then turned to Pansy. "Thank you. We really appreciate it. What's inside?"

"You can open it right now," Pansy said. "It's traditional for you to open it the second you get it."

Hermione tore into the gift box, while Potter and Weasley watched warily. "Oh. Oh my God," she said as she lifted the jewelry box out of its wrapping. "This is beautiful. Where did you get this?"

"It's a family relic from my mother's side," Pansy said, pleased. "It'll grow in value as you get old, and you can pass it down to your children."

Ron and Harry's eyes were wide. "This is a pureblood tradition," Ron said after a second.

"A gesture of goodwill from me to you," Pansy replied. "It means that I hope that our families can always be friendly."

"It means you want our families to be allies," Ron said, sounding incredulous. "Are you saying that the Parkinsons want to be allies with the Weasleys?"

"At this time, I can't speak for the Parkinsons, only for myself," she said, wringing her hands, hating every doubtful word that he said. "And, well, congratulations on getting married. I just wanted to come to give you this gift and… I'll be going."

"Are you sure?" It was Potter who spoke this time, surprising her. "You couldn't stay for a few drinks?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Yeah, you could stay for a little bit."

"Maybe," she said. "I'll let you get back to the rest of your guests. I've taken up too much time already."

"Thank you, Pansy," Hermione said. She just smiled and walked to the round dinner tables. She was going to find Longbottom, say hello and then take off. She'd accomplished her mission and she didn't want to stay any longer than she had to.

She found him on the dance floor. She leaned on a tree and watched as he swirled his date around. Suddenly, she didn't really feel like letting him know that she was leaving. She'd just take off discreetly and see him at home—

But then he saw her as she was turning away, and she knew that she couldn't just leave now. The song ended and he separated from Renee and began walking straight toward her.

"I think I'm going to go home," she told him.

"Already?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm feeling tired," she replied, a lump in her throat. Renee joined them, smiling.

"Hello, Pansy," she said. Pansy put on a fake smile.

"Good to see you again, Miss Waters," Pansy said cordially.

"Oh, it's just Renee," the other girl said. Pansy just kept smiling.

"Of course."

"Did I hear you say that you're leaving? Oh, but you should stay and have some punch. I'm pretty sure it's spiked," she said with relish. Pansy wrinkled her nose. _Of course_ the punch would be spiked.

"I'd rather not. Besides, I've some errands to run tonight."

"Oh, come on, Parkinson. Don't be anti-social," Neville said with a smile.

"It's alright," Pansy said. "You go ahead and have fun. I'm going home." Neville watched her walk off, knowing that she was searching for a quiet place to apparate. Renee shrugged.

"Let her run off if she wants to," his date said. "Let's dance some more!" Neville did as she said, but he couldn't help but feel guilty about Pansy. She was so obviously out of place in this group of people—she truly didn't even have one friendly face, except for him. He'd been planning on asking her if she wanted to dance later, but he realized that it wasn't really polite, or even realistic, to expect her to wait around for him to talk to her.

"Uh, hold on," he told Renee. "I'm going to go talk to her. I'll be right back." Renee sighed.

"I'll go get some punch," she said with a frown. Neville didn't notice; he jogged in Pansy's direction.

She was standing under a secluded tree far from the party, and was about to apparate when he finally caught up to her. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Hey," he panted. "I was just going to ask if you were sure you couldn't stay for a little bit. Have some food or something?"

She bit her lip, looking past him to the party. "I just don't really know anyone."

"You know me," he said. "And you sort of know Renee. You can sit with us." Pansy frowned. She had no doubt that he would sitting and socializing with Harry Potter and his wife, and several more of his Gryffindor friends.

"I'm not sure," she replied after a moment. "I don't want to use you as some sort of social crutch."

"You won't be," he sighed. "There will be people who want to talk to you, or dance with you. _I'll_ even dance with you."

"Really? What about Renee?"

Neville shrugged. "She won't mind sitting out one dance. What do you say? At least stay for a drink."

Pansy sighed, but he knew that meant he'd convinced her. He led her back toward the party, where the music and festivities were still in full swing. The sun had begun to set, and the lights around the tents were looking brighter and prettier.

They swung by the punch bowl (Pansy could taste the alcohol, this punch wasn't fooling anyone) and she followed him back to Renee, who was waiting with a hand on one hip. Neville didn't seem to notice, but Renee looked kind of mad—something that secretly delighted Pansy. Did it make her angry that Neville wanted her to stick around a little while longer?

Interesting.

"Let's dance, Nev," the girl said, sending Pansy a subtle look that only another woman could understand. _Hands off my man._ Pansy scoffed. Renee didn't have anything to worry about, but it was funny that she thought she did.

"Sure," Neville said, none the wiser. Pansy stood alone for a moment, watching the dancers on the floor, before feeling a gentle tap on her shoulder.

It was Harry Potter. She almost jumped out of her skin.

"Care to dance?" he asked with a friendly smile.

"O-of course," Pansy said, surprised. She let him lead her out onto the dance floor.

"It was nice of you to come," Harry said as he led her in a waltz. "Sorry about Ron. He's really not all that bad."

"I don't blame him," Pansy sighed, matching his steps. "I don't mean any harm, though. I'd thought that a gift…"

"He's stubborn. But Hermione really likes it," he assured her. "By the way, I wouldn't worry about the papers. I know how it is to have Rita Skeeter writing about you."

"I've stopped reading the papers," she replied with a smile. "As much as I can, anyway. It's all useless dribble, anyway."

"Try _The Quibbler_," he said with a grin.

"Maybe when I'm feeling brave," she laughed. They just danced for a moment, somewhat clumsily. "Potter, I have to say… Well, I've never…"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, understanding. "It was eight years ago."

The dance ended and he bowed before taking off to find Ginny. She was astonished. No wonder so many people loved and admired Harry Potter. He really was a saint.

She returned to sit down and nurse some more of the sugary spiked punch, feeling like she was able to take a breath for the first time in ages. She watched the party-goers dance and socialize; there was Hermione, at the sweetheart's table with her new husband. Potter and Ginny were dancing, laughing, and some of the Weasley brothers were standing together, joking and drinking in the evening light.

She didn't notice Neville approaching. "Hey, want to have that dance, now?" he asked with a smile, looking a little flushed.

"You were able to escape, I see," she said with a laugh, standing up and taking his hand. "How good a dancer are you, anyway?"

"My Gran made me learn, so I'm good," he replied.

The first song they danced to was a fast one, and when it ended, they slowed down.

"Let's dance one more song," he said, "just to cool off."

"You've been dancing all night," she replied. "I wouldn't mind if you took a break."

He shrugged, moving his hand onto a modest position on her waist. "It's a good work-out."

"And working in the atrium isn't?" she laughed. "I don't mind at all, Longbottom."

"You've only had one dance," he said. "C'mon, girls love dancing, don't they?"

Pansy caught Renee glaring at her from the corner of the dance floor, and that's what made her decision. "One last dance, and then you should take a break," she replied, unable to stop the big smile on her face. "So you saw me dancing with Potter?"

"Yeah. What were you talking about?" he asked before twirling her.

"He's really something else," she said. "We used to call him Saint Potter as a joke, but…"

"He's a good guy," Neville agreed. They were dancing slowly now, and he was glad for the break. Renee was hard to keep up with, and there wasn't as much pressure to impress with Pansy. She already knew him, and she really wasn't in any position to be skeptical of him, seeing as he was the one who wrote her paycheck. It was nice to just take a break from trying to astound his date—who seemed to have boundless energy.

They gravitated closer, one of her hands looping loosely around his neck, and her other hand resting in his own. It was probably the closest he'd ever been to her (in a context that didn't involve carrying her to the hospital), and he found that it was… pleasant. She was soft, easy to dance with. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable like he'd expected it to be. Her perfume was especially pleasant—or was it shampoo?

She was smiling, and for the first time he noticed how nice she looked when she did. Her hair was down, a change from the high bun she wore every day to work. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks were flushed. He knew that she was probably wearing blush or something, but it made her look soft, and lovely… She was looking around the room, unaware that he was gazing at her. He flushed and stopped staring at her. So, yes, his employee… his friend, was an attractive woman. She wasn't just a little teenager with an attitude problem anymore. That didn't mean that he could ogle her.

It was Pansy Parkinson. He couldn't check her out.

The song ended and she smiled at him. "Thanks for the dance," she said breathlessly. "Oh, here comes Granger. Well, I guess she would be called Weasley, wouldn't she?"

"Hermione would probably sound better," he said, feeling almost reluctant to let her go.

"I'm going to talk to her," Pansy said. "Just congratulate her once more. You'd better see to your date."

Oh, Renee! He looked around for her, feeling ashamed. He'd completely forgotten her. He spotted her at the table, nursing a drink.

* * *

><p>Renee had decided to leave early, claiming she was tired. Neville had offered to escort her home, but she'd refused, not wanting to be any trouble. She promised to owl him to set up a date later.<p>

He knew he should have been disappointed, but he was relieved.

People were beginning to leave. It was dark outside now, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were beginning to wave their wands, picking up trash and putting away food. Pansy found him after a few minutes.

"Is it time to go?" she asked.

"I think so, unless you want to stick around to help clean up." That earned him an amused smile.

"Are you staying to help?"

"Not if I can help it," he said, and she laughed as they walked to find somewhere to apparate.

"I didn't know you were so bad, Longbottom. Sneaking out before helping? They should have put you in Slytherin."

"Side-along?" he asked, holding out one arm. She took it and with a _pop_ they were gone.

* * *

><p>They appeared in his apartment and she let go of him. "Thanks," she said.<p>

"No problem," he replied.

She looked up at him, grinning. "I'm glad you made me stay," she said. "I had a really good time. Better than I thought."

"That's good," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I saw the gift you gave Hermione."

"She showed you?"

"She showed everyone," he laughed. "You made my bottle of wine look ridiculous. Where did you get that box?"

"It was an antique. Remember that chest we got from my manor?"

He hummed, remembering. "That's why we went?"

"Part of the reason," she said with a sigh. "I just wanted to get some things of mine before it was too late. It was just convenient that there was a gift in there." She yawned.

"Are you tired?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I think I may go to bed. What time is it?" He checked his watch.

"Almost midnight."

"_HELLO?_" a voice boomed around the room without any warning as the fireplace flared up. They jumped and Pansy shrieked.

"Ooh, am I interrupting something?" the fireplace said, in a voice that was oddly familiar.

"Draco Malfoy!" Pansy yelled into the fireplace, no longer feeling drowsy. "You scared the living daylights out of us! Shame on you! Where have you _been_? You worthless little—"

"Yes, yes, Pansy, are you through yet? I have to ask you something…"

Neville watched as Pansy yelled into the fireplace, glad that he wasn't on the receiving end of her rage.

"What makes you think I'll do you any favors, now, Draco?! You sneak into my flat, you don't even wake me up—you just leave a letter! Oh, you scoundrel, you left me to clean up your mess with your poor mother, and… And this is _Neville's_ floo, Draco, how do you even know if I'm going to be over when you call? You are so rude! All of your breeding has gone to waste, I swear!"

"Oh, the two of you are on a first-name basis, I see," Draco said through the fireplace. Pansy let out an exasperated sigh, looking at Neville apologetically. It was obvious that nothing she'd said had gotten through to him.

"What is it you want, you git?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"I actually needed to talk to you _and_ Longbottom, so perhaps you're the rude one," the fireplace simply said. Neville cocked an eyebrow. What would Malfoy need with him?

"I'm here," Neville said aloud.

"Oh, good. Pansy, you always fancy a trip to France, don't you?"

"Get to the point," she groused.

"You see, we were hoping to catch the two of you because we need witnesses. One for a bride, one for a groom."

Pansy was dead quiet for a moment, staring into the fireplace, hand on her chin and thinking. "Are you…"

"We need you here, Pans," Draco's voice was no longer smug or arrogant. "A witness for me, and a witness for Astoria. That all we need. You're the first person I thought of. I was hoping you could bring Longbottom along to witness for me."

Pansy looked at Neville, the question in her eyes. He was tired, and he wasn't totally sure what was happening, but he nodded. She turned back to the floo, determined.

"When do you need us?"

"Now. Right now. There's a portkey in the Manor."

"Which room?"

"The one that you were staying in. Just floo right in and grab the portkey."

"Alright, get out of the floo," she said. "We're coming."

Draco's face vanished and it was quiet for a moment. She sighed. "Longbottom, you don't have to come if—"

"It's fine," Neville said with a shrug. "I've never been to France before."

* * *

><p>Neville had done many crazy things before, but never had he imagined that he'd be standing next to Draco Malfoy on his wedding day.<p>

Well, elopement day.

He found himself in the French countryside with Pansy Parkinson, sitting inside of a small courthouse—or what looked like an official building. Pansy had insisted that Astoria switch clothes with her, saying that she couldn't get married in sweats and a men's button-up—so the two women were in a bathroom.

Draco, despite his snarky attitude earlier, seemed to understand the weight of the situation. He shook hands with Neville and thanked him for coming.

"No problem," he replied, sitting next to the blond man in the waiting area. They sat there, quiet, for quite some time, before Draco turned to him.

"So, how long? You and Pans," he asked amiably, trying to start a conversation.

Neville cleared his throat, feeling his face get red. "Uh, we're not together," he said awkwardly. Draco laughed.

"My mistake, then," he said with an embarrassed smile. "I just thought… you know. You came all the way to France just to help me and Astoria."

Neville didn't know how to reply. Draco was right—but Neville had just thought he was just helping Pansy. "We're just friends," he said.

"She's a good girl," Draco said. "She thinks I keep her around just to tease her, but that's simply not true."

"Are you talking about me?" Pansy's voice cut through their conversation and the two men looked up.

Draco seemed gobsmacked at the sight of Astoria in Pansy's dress (turned white with a few spells) and pearl earrings. Her hair was arranged in a simple updo. "We're ready," Astoria breathed, her face turning pink.

Draco was nearly speechless. "Just waiting for the… for the…"

"Officiator," Neville offered.

"Isn't she lovely?" Pansy asked. Before she had been tired, but now she was energized. "Draco, I need to talk to you. Astoria, you wait with Neville. Neville, you tell her how pretty she looks," she said with a grin as she pulled Draco up from his seat. "We'll be fast, don't worry."

"Sure!" Astoria chirped, taking Draco's seat next to Neville.

Pansy led her friend into a hallway, just out of earshot from the other two. "Draco," she said. "Tell me what's happening."

The blond shifted his weight and stood p straight. "I'm marrying Astoria, Pans."

"I know, but what about your mother? What about… I don't know, _her_ family?"

"I'm sure about this, Pansy," he said, looking right into her eyes. "Our families don't matter when it comes to this, do you understand?" She looked at him for a moment before wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"Oh, Draco. It's two in the morning and you're getting married," she said, smiling, her eyes shining with tears.

He chuckled. "Don't cry, Pansy. Seriously."

"I'll try," she said, her voice strained. "Oh, I'm so happy you called me. I'm so proud of you."

"Shut up," he said with a laugh, beginning to feel emotional. "I can see the officiator."

She followed him out into the lobby to meet with the man who would seal the two. He was a great big man with a huge white wig. He led them into a small room in the building. "Do you have your witnesses, now?" he asked, his French accent just barely filtering through his speech.

"Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom," Astoria said. The man looked the two over and presented them with a piece of parchment.

"You two sign here, and we'll get this started." They were given a quill, and they took turns signing. "Now that that's out of the way, the bride and groom must stand facing each other. Now, you," he said, pointing to Neville, "stand beside the man. And you," to Pansy, "beside the woman. Are we ready to get started?"

The group nodded. Astoria and Draco held hands as the officiator spoke.

That was when the situation really hit Neville. He stood next to Malfoy, barely able to listen to the words as he watched the magic pass over the bride and groom's hands. He looked at Pansy, who was wiping her eyes. She had gone from wearing a dress, to wearing a plaid button-up and sweats, and her hair was slightly tangled from rushing to get Astoria ready, and she was bawling her eyes out.

And she looked beautiful.

* * *

><p>The officiator snapped a picture of the four of them after the ceremony, promising to mail them all a copy before sending them off into the night.<p>

They stood out in the crisp air. "So, how are we getting home?" Pansy asked. Draco shrugged and she punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow! Hey, I really didn't think that out, alright? I was a little busy getting married," he said, pulling Astoria close. She girl hugged him right back. "We can find a portkey tomorrow and we'll all go home."

"We'll pay for a room for you," Astoria said graciously. "It's the least we can do."

Neville and Pansy followed the couple down the road to the inn where they had apparently been staying.

Draco turned to Pansy at the door and handed her a few galleons. "That'll be enough for one room."

"One room? Aren't you the Malfoy heir?" Pansy asked, still a little teary, but able to sound indignant. He shrugged.

"I've got to save money now that I'm married," he said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes.

"Git. Fine, we'll take it," she said, swiping the money out of Draco's hand. "You two have fun."

"Good night!" they called.

* * *

><p>"I'll take the floor," Neville said, pulling some pillows off of the queen-size bed.<p>

"No, that's not fair," Pansy protested. She was sitting on the bed, face freshly washed.

The taller man continued arranging a little bed on the floor. "I don't mind," he said, hoping she wouldn't mind if he stole a sheet or two. It was easier if he just took the floor like a gentleman, rather than getting into the debate over who would sleep where.

She heaved a sigh and reached down to pull up one of his pillows. "C'mon, Longbottom, we're both adults. I can't have you sleeping on the floor. If you get a sore neck, you'll use it to guilt me into doing harder work."

Neville chuckled and threw the last pillow back up on the bed. He was too tired to argue—it was already three in the morning. He dragged himself up and into the bed, being careful not to lie too close to her.

She blew out the candlelight and crept under the covers, being sure to scrunch some up between them so he wouldn't feel too uncomfortable.

"Two weddings," she mumbled, feeling sleepy.

"Yep," he replied, shutting his eyes.

"Sorry for dragging you to France."

"At least now I can say I've been," he said, earning a soft laugh.

They settled in silence for a long moment. He was almost asleep when he heard: "Everyone is getting married."

"Mm-hm."

"Do you want to get married? Not to me, of course. But I mean, do you want to be married at all?"

She listened for an answer, wondering if he'd fallen asleep on her. After a long time, he answered, "Sure, I think."

"Sure?"

"Well," he said, sounding tired, "if it was to the right person, then yeah, I'd want to get married. You?"

"Me?"

"Think it said in the tabloids once you wanted to get married. Have about twenty kids." He opened his eyes and looked at her with a tired smile. "With Theo Nott?"

She scoffed. "In his wildest dreams."

"Speaking of dreaming…"

"Sorry," she whispered. She fell silent. She felt the pull of sleep, and gave in.

* * *

><p>When Neville woke, before the fog of sleep was lifted from his mind, all he could think about was how nice it was to wake up next to Pansy Parkinson.<p>

The light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm beam onto the sleeping girl next to him. Her long, dark hair tangled across her pillow. She had abandoned all the covers to allow the sun to warm her skin.

He blinked for a few seconds. He really couldn't keep checking out Parkinson, he thought as he sat up. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity.

"Is it morning?" she said softly, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

"It's noon," he informed her, looking at his watch. She sat up and yawned.

"Good thing it's Sunday," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Are you hungry? We have just enough money left for some food."

They left the room without having to gather anything. They'd come in just their clothes, and they had nothing to look after. Pansy was grateful for this. They saw Draco and Astoria as they walked outside.

"You're awake," Astoria said with a radiant smile, giving Pansy a hug.

"You two certainly slept in," Draco said with a smirk.

"Maybe because we were up all night," Pansy snapped, not impressed with his implication.

"Well, while you were relaxing, we were out setting up a portkey," he said. "It's time for us to go home. I've probably worried mother long enough."

"She won't be happy," Pansy said. "But she'll forgive you. Now, let's go."

They hiked up a hill to the portkey and, carefully timing themselves, grabbed it all at the same time.

* * *

><p>The next day, they were back to business as usual. Neville still hadn't heard from Renee, and he had a feeling that she wasn't going to owl him at all.<p>

"Well, what did you do to make her mad?" Pansy asked when he'd expressed his thought out loud. She was in the atrium down below him planting some seeds, while he was up on the ladder tending to the more delicate plants. Since having to rush her to St. Mungo's he wasn't crazy about letting her up there. He climbed down and wiped his hands on his apron.

"I don't know," he replied. "I guess I was just curious. What do you think I did?"

"What do _I_ think?" she asked, amused.

"Yeah. A woman's take on things, I guess?"

She rolled her eyes and continued planting. "My take is that maybe she's just a twat." Her eyes got wide and she covered her mouth. "Er, no! I'm sorry!"

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear like that," he said with a grin. Her face flushed.

"Sorry," she said. "But if you're never going to see her again…"

"Have you thought that the whole time?"

"It's very possible that I wasn't very impressed with her on our first meeting," she said carefully. "She had very bad manners."

"I didn't notice," he said.

"Well, of course you wouldn't," she teased. He flicked some dirt at her and she shrieked.

"Watch it, Longbottom!" she laughed. The bell on the front door jingled and they stopped playing around.

"Customer," he said. "Go help them, I'll finish this for you."

Pansy wiped her hands and made her way to the front. At the front desk stood none other than Narcissa Malfoy.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Pansy said softly, hurrying to her. The woman looked somber, her mouth set in a frown and her eyes sad. "Is everything okay?" She was worried—had Narcissa taken the news of Draco's marriage that hard? She knew that it would be difficult, but the older woman looked pale and upset, as if someone had died.

"Pansy, dear," she said, her voice soft. "I'm sorry to come visit you here, I know that it's so unexpected…"

"No, it's fine," Pansy said quickly. Neville wandered to the front to see what was going on.

"Do you have somewhere to sit, darling?" Narcissa asked, looking around the room.

Pansy's heart began to pound. "What? Why?"

"I'm afraid I have some terrible news," she said, glancing for a moment at Neville. "It's your father, Pansy. He's had an accident."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Haha, cliffhanger! I'm so bad!

I hope this chapter was good! There are some parts that I still feel a little iffy about, but I'm not sure I'll ever be totally satisfied.

So what did you think? I'm trying to inject a little more romance—things are gonna start heating up, folks! I wanted Neville to realize that Pansy's one hot lady. And he should be ogling her, even if he feels weird about it. :)

Please tell me what you thought! Reviews/thoughts/suggestions are welcome!

-Deena


	11. Dancing

Pansy sat in the hospital waiting room, trying to calm her beating heart. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Her mind was racing with questions—what had happened to her father? Was he okay? What if he died?

She could hear her grandmother's voice in the hallway, ordering around her aunts and uncles and cousins. The nurses would be getting sick of the woman soon, she imagined. Her father had always been the favorite, being the oldest.

She could have gone to see her father anytime, but she was trying to calm down before the imminent run-in with Grandmother Parkinson. She didn't know if she could confront her after hearing the things she'd said about her to her father.

After a few moments, she stood up. Summoning her courage, she walked toward down the hall toward the voices of her family. It took a moment for them to notice her, but when they did, it was just as bad as she'd predicted.

Her aunts and uncles stared, frozen, as if they weren't sure what to do. Pansy continued walking toward the room where her father was—the room that her grandmother happened to be standing outside of.

She tried to stand tall, in that moment realizing that he hadn't even had the chance to take off her dirty apron. Her fingernails were dirty and she had a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Soon, she was standing right in front of her grandmother, looking right into the woman's cold eyes.

"My dear," the woman said, her lips a thin line. "I don't believe you have business here."

Pansy straightened, glad that she was taller than the other woman. "I'm afraid you're mistaken," she replied, her voice deadly calm. "I'm going in to see my father, now."

She put her hand on the doorknob and twisted it, looking right into the eyes of her grandmother as she did so. As fast as lightning, the old woman's wand was out, sending a jolt of magic to shock Pansy's hand.

"You're not welcome here," she snapped. Pansy yelped and retracted her hand from the doorknob.

"Grandmother!" she said, trying not to yell. It hurt her pride, but she knew what she'd have to do. "Grandmother, please," she continued, rubbing her shocked hand. "He's my father. I have to see him."

"You've been disowned, Pansy," the other woman said. "How are we to know your intentions? This is strictly for the safety of our beloved Henry, you must understand."

"I do," she replied, tears in her eyes. "But please let me see him, I'm begging you. Grandmother, if you've ever had any love for me, you'll let me in. _Please_!"

The old crone was silent, the eyes of all the children and grandchildren upon her. "If you let me in for three minutes, you'll never hear from me again. It'll be as if I never existed," she promised, not breaking eye contact.

"Three minutes?" she replied, her hard eyes on Pansy. "I'll give you two. And when that's over, I expect to never hear from you again."

"Agreed," Pansy said, reaching for the doorknob once more. She didn't get shocked this time, so she continued inside, shutting the door softly behind her.

She studied the man lying on the hospital bed, her heart sinking. Ever since she was a child, her father had always seemed like a great man to her—broad shoulders, a great stature, impossibly tall. But now, on this little bed, he looked tiny and old.

She sat carefully down onto a chair next to the bed and put her hand over his. "Father," she said softly. She hated to wake him up, but she needed to talk to him, to hear his voice so she could know he was alright. He stirred. "Daddy?" she said, her voice cracking.

"Pansy?" he asked, his voice weak. "It's really you. My darling." He smiled and lifted his hand to touch her face. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her free hand.

"Daddy, I was so worried," she cried, leaning onto the hospital bed to kiss him on the cheek. "I only have a moment. What happened to you?"

"Oh, my dear, nothing for you to worry about," he said, his voice not gaining any strength.

"You haven't been taking your potions, have you?" she asked quietly. He seemed so delicate, that she was almost afraid that her voice would hurt him. "And what have you been eating? Oh, Daddy, no one's been around to look after you."

"Don't you worry about that, my darling," he said, smiling. "I'll recover soon, so the doctors say."

"Please start taking your potions," she said, squeezing his hand gently. "Tell the house elves to look after you. Your heart isn't working like it used to, Daddy, everyone says so all the time and you don't listen—"

"It's really alright, as long as I know you're well, Pansy," he said patiently, and she knew that he was ignoring everything she said. She began to feel sick. Without her, he didn't have anyone to bully him into taking care of himself or help him manage the estate.

"I'll take care of you, Daddy," she promised.

"You must care for yourself, Pansy," he said. There was a knock on the door. Her time was up.

"I'll see you again soon," she said, standing up and letting go of her his hand. She didn't know how she was going to keep that promise, but she'd try. "Don't worry about anything, Daddy."

She walked out of the room, taking one last glance at her Father. Her poor, lonely father, who'd not only lost a wife, but who had also lost his daughter. Walking out into the hallway, she shut the door and looked at her relatives.

With one last look at her grandmother, she turned and began down the hallway.

* * *

><p>That night Neville knocked on Pansy's door. It took a little longer than usual for her to answer, and when she did he saw that her eyes were a little red and that she wasn't wearing any make-up.<p>

"How's your dad?" he asked as she let him inside. She sat back down on her couch with her cup of tea and he sat beside her.

"He's going to be alright," she said, looking into her cup. "I got to talk to him. For two minutes."

He frowned. "That's all?"

"All my grandmother would allow me," she replied.

He didn't know what to say, so he just sat quietly next to her, listening to her sip her tea.

"I don't think my family will ever take me back," she said after a moment. "I kept thinking they would. But they're really not." She sighed. "I need a distraction. I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Well… it's almost fall," he said, feeling useless. "The shop's going to get busy with students."

She raised an eyebrow. "Throw myself into work, hm? You're sneakier than you think, Neville Longbottom."

He blushed. "No, that's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I just meant…"

"I know, I'm just giving you a hard time," she said, smiling despite her bad mood.

"You've got a weird sense of humor," he sighed, leaning back into the couch and placing his hands behind his head. "Reminds me of my Gran."

"What? I remind you of your Gran?" She felt a little disturbed by that.

"No, just your sense of humor. It's very deadpan," he said.

"How come I haven't met your Gran?" she asked suddenly. She'd been working for him for the whole summer but she'd never seen the woman.

He snorted. "What, you want to meet her?"

"Yeah, why not? Meet the woman who's responsible for all this," she said, waving her hand toward him.

"I don't know about that," he said with a nervous laugh. "I'm not sure I could introduce her to a girl without her making our wedding plans."

Pansy blushed. "Our wedding plans?" she asked.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! I meant… well, you know, like if I introduced her to any girl, even if we were just friends, I didn't mean it like I thought you and I… erm…" He was fumbling over his words now, reminding her of the Neville she knew in her early Hogwarts years. "What I meant was, even though we're just friends, she would think that I was dating you. Or she'd try to set us up or something," he said slowly, his face now a dark red.

She threw her head back and laughed. "Oh my goodness, you're on a roll today!"

He cleared his throat and stood up. "It's getting late," he said, embarrassed. "I'd better get to bed, we've got an early morning!" She laughed even harder as he dashed out of her flat.

* * *

><p>The next day after work was when Pansy was finally able to catch up with Astoria. She'd popped on by her apartment to bring back the dress and earrings that Pansy had let her borrow.<p>

"… We're getting tons of gifts from both sides of the family, too. I don't know what we're going to do with all of them! We're just moving into a tiny little flat, you know. Of course Mrs. Malfoy doesn't want us to move, which is really sweet actually. And…" The blond girl had been talking non-stop from the moment she'd gotten to Pansy's place.

"So the Malfoys aren't angry?" Pansy interrupted, trying to guide the giddy Astoria into a conversation that made a little more sense.

"Oh, they were angry," Astoria sighed. "But only because they didn't get to see the wedding. They also weren't thrilled about Draco lying to them for so long."

"Imagine that!" Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "Well, I'm just glad I got to be there."

"I'm so glad too! It was perfect. Of course, my family is insisting on a reception."

"That sounds wonderful," Pansy said, although she wasn't sure how many more wedding-related events she could take.

"I think so, too. And you can bring your boss along with you."

Pansy nearly choked on her own spit. "I don't know about that," she said after a second. "We're not, like, a thing. We're just friends."

Astoria gave a smirk that looked suspiciously like Draco's. She'd been hanging around him for too long. "I never suggested such a thing," she said. "Anyway, the only reason I said anything about him was because my sister said she knows him. You were all in the same year at school, remember?"

"What does _Daphne _want with him?" Pansy asked, trying not to sound nasty. Astoria only smiled wider.

"She always thought he was cute." Pansy rolled her eyes. _No one_ in Slytherin had thought Neville was cute. "Don't roll your eyes, that's what she says," Astoria laughed.

"She only thinks he's cute _now_," Pansy said.

"Do you think he's cute now?" the other girl asked casually. "Just curious."

"He's average," Pansy said in the exact same casual tone. "I just don't know what Daphne would want with him."

"He's a war-hero," Astoria explained, making herself comfortable on Pansy's couch. "She has a thing for heroes. You remember how she had a flame for Harry Potter for a while."

Pansy didn't remember that actually, and she wondered just how much she'd been oblivious to. "Well, if I brought Longbottom anywhere with me, it wouldn't be to serve him up on a platter to your sister."

Astoria smirked more, if it was possible. "Because he'd be _your_ date, right?" Pansy rolled her eyes again.

"Because I wouldn't wish your sister on my worst enemy," she said with a smile.

"Hey!"

"You know how she is in relationships," Pansy said.

"I know, I know," the other girl sighed. "Doesn't he have a girlfriend, anyway? That slag, Renee."

Pansy grinned. "He hasn't heard from Renee since the Weasley wedding," she replied.

"You seem satisfied."

"So?"

"You like him."

"Don't be silly."

"You're ridiculous," Astoria laughed. She stood up and smoothed her skirts. "I just wanted to drop by to give you your clothes back. And give you this." She pulled something out from her pocket. "It's the picture of us at the courthouse."

"I forgot that that he even took one," Pansy gasped, taking hold of the photo. She'd been so tired that she hadn't been paying that much attention. They were all standing together; Draco and Astoria were in the middle, and she and Neville were on either side of them. The wedded couple looked utterly happy and blissful, hugging each other, with Astoria standing on her tippy-toes to give Draco a kiss. Neville was shuffling his feet, a tired smile on his face. Pansy herself was attempting to smile, but she kept sniffling and wiping tears.

It really was the worst picture that had ever been taken of her, but she loved it anyway.

* * *

><p>The weeks leading up to the new school year seemed to fly by. The air outside was getting crisp, and the summer was slowly turning into fall. Neville and Pansy continued to work, preparing for the influx of students that would surely flood Diagon Alley before school began.<p>

The first day of the last week before school arrived.

It was worse than Pansy had imagined it would be. The shop could get busy in the days of summer, but this was like nothing she'd ever seen. There were confused-looking first-years wandering in and out of the shop with their parents, along with smug, older students who liked to loiter outside the shop to try and get Neville's autograph.

She supposed that she could see why he was so popular (she'd been there when he'd killed that snake), but she hadn't really understood the extent of his popularity until now.

Neville handled it with the weary grace of someone who'd been dealing with it for forever. He'd patiently explain that this was a place of business, and no, he would not take money for his autograph, and hey,_ he_ didn't win the war, go find Harry Potter.

At the end of the week, school had begun, and the shop was blissfully quiet. Pansy sat at the front with the accounting books, pleased at the profit they'd made over the week.

"These are big numbers," she said as she calculated.

"That's great," Neville said, looking over her shoulder. "I knew that this week would be good but I didn't expect us to get so busy."

"All those kids," Pansy said, scrunching up her nose. "They all look so little, even the seventh years. Did we look like that?"

"Probably," he said, moving from behind her shoulder to sit beside her.

"We're done for the day," she announced, shutting the book and looking at him with a satisfied smile. "And tomorrow is Saturday. I can't wait to sleep in."

"What're you going to do tonight?" he asked, leaning his elbow onto the counter.

She shrugged. "Read a book? I'll probably go to bed early. You?"

"Well…" Neville looked at her for a moment before continuing. She raised an eyebrow and looked right back. "A new pub just opened down the street."

"Frothy's?"

"That's the one. I may meet some people there. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Seamus and his girlfriend…" he broke out into a huge smile. "I didn't tell you earlier, but I got an owl this morning. Hermione's having a baby. Ron's over the moon about it, I can tell. They're going to celebrate."

"Oh!" Pansy exclaimed. So Hermione had finally told everyone. "What a surprise! That's so nice for them."

"Yeah," Neville said. "Doesn't surprise me. It'll probably be the first of many."

Pansy scoffed. "If we know anything about the Weasleys, she'll be having triplets." She stood up and stretched her arms and legs. "It sounds like fun. Just don't drink too much," she said with a smile.

"Actually, I was thinking you could come with me," he said, nervous. She stopped stretching.

"Me?"

"Yeah," he replied, trying to act as casual as he could. He didn't want her thinking this was a date or anything. "Just 'cause… You know. You'll be home all alone. That's boring."

She bit her lip. "I don't know," she said uncertainly, "I'd feel like I was intruding…"

"You won't be," he said. "And they're all married or they have girlfriends. It's weird to go and be the only one who's single."

Pansy's lip quirked. "Are you the only one of your friends who isn't married or in a relationship?"

"There's you," he said, and she smiled.

"I'm your friend?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"What kind of question is that?" he said with a laugh.

* * *

><p>Frothy's was an alright bar, Pansy thought. There was booze aplenty, a lot of people milling about, and a lot of dancing. It really wasn't too different than anything in Knockturn Alley, but she wasn't going to say that to the enthusiastic witches and wizards in the bar. Everyone had been anticipating the opening of the pub for weeks now; it had been the talk of Diagon Alley.<p>

Pansy found herself sitting next to Hermione, who was drinking water while the boys chatted. Seamus' girlfriend was the only one who had any interest in talking with them, while Pansy and Hermione were satisfied leaving them to themselves.

"Congratulations on your pregnancy," Pansy said with a small smile, and Hermione laughed.

"Thanks," she said, "although this feels more like torture than a celebration. They take me to a bar when they know I can't drink."

"How unfair," Pansy said with a grin. "But you can always dance. Have you had a baby shower yet?"

"I have," she said. "You wouldn't believe the things I got. Honestly, I prefer a muggle baby shower."

"What do you get in those?" Pansy asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh, diapers, blankets, pacifiers. Just normal things, you know?"

"Pacifiers?"

"Never mind," the other girl sighed and waved her hand. "So, I have to ask. Are you and Neville…?"

"Oh, no," Pansy said quickly, stealing a glance at her boss. "No, we're just friends."

"Sorry," Hermione said. "It's just that you've been everywhere together lately. When you came to the wedding together I just assumed…"

"No, he went with someone else," Pansy said. "A girl named Renee."

"I was too busy to notice," Hermione admitted. "I just saw you two dancing. I'm so sorry, that's an embarrassing question."

Pansy shrugged. "It's no problem at all. Oh look, here they come." The boys were headed back their way, smiling and laughing.

"They're probably all done catching up," Hermione said. Ron picked her up in a great hug when he saw her and she squealed. "Ronald!"

The tall red-headed man already seemed a little tipsy. "Everyone, I have an announcement to make!" he cried, gaining the attention of only a few people in the loud bar. "We're having a baby! One round on me!"

That got everyone's attention. People in the bar began cheering and whooping; men began approaching Ron and congratulating him with firm handshakes. Hermione was blushing and their friends were all around them, laughing.

Pansy couldn't help but smile at the scene. She got her own mug of butterbeer and sipped slowly, enjoying the taste, trying to draw out this feeling and make it last. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and turned around to see Neville.

"Oh, hey Longbottom," she said. He grinned and sat next to her.

"Pansy," he said, forgoing her last name for her first. "You should call me Neville. Quite a scene, isn't it?"

Her face flushed. "Yeah, it is. Neville," she said with a grin.

"C'mon, you should get up and dance a little. Instead of sitting here all by yourself," he said, holding his hand out to her. She could see that he was a little tipsy, and she silently wondered what those boys had been drinking while she'd been sitting with Hermione.

"Alright." She set down her butterbeer and hopped up, taking his hand. The music was in full swing now, and she could see Granger and Weasley dancing, along with many other people she didn't know. Neville swung her around in an old folk-dance, and she was distinctly reminded of dancing to the Weatherby Family Band in Knockturn alley.

Neville twirled her and she wondered if there was a chance that this dance could end with a snog-session in the alley, too.

No! She had to make an effort to push that thought away. Before she knew it, the song was over. "I'm gonna get s'more Fire Whiskey," he said with a huge grin. "Want any? It's on Ron."

She laughed. "No, but you help yourself." Now she knew what he'd been drinking—it was no wonder those boys were already so loosened up. She felt a little sorry for Hermione, who was in a bar surrounded by drunk people—until she spotted her with her husband, who was spinning her around on the dance floor and laughing.

Neville was back as soon as the next dance started. She was surprised at how eager he was to dance, but she let him swirl her around anyway. There was no harm in dancing, she thought, and it wasn't like he'd ever know how much she liked it.

She kept up with his movements easily and let him put his hand on her waist and lead her around the floor. She looked up and couldn't help but laugh with him.

* * *

><p>Pansy was worn out. It was midnight when everyone finally began to get tired and go home. She'd have left sooner, but she didn't have the heart to ditch Neville. Especially since it seemed that he'd need help getting home tonight.<p>

They walked on a back road behind the alley to get home. The moon was bright enough to light their way, but it still took them longer to get home because Neville was, frankly, a little pissed.

"You haven't heard of a thing called _moderation_, have you?" she asked with a laugh. She let him lean on her a little to steady his walk.

"It was a celebration," he defended, letting her lead him up to the shop's entrance. "I almost never drink this much."

"You're a lightweight," she teased once they were inside. She hopped up onto the stairs in front of him so that he wouldn't take her out if he fell. Once they were at the top, she unlocked his flat for him and ushered him inside. "You should sleep it off," she said, highly amused when he almost fell over onto his couch. She'd never seen Neville drunk before, and he'd been chatty and sappy all night. She rather liked it—it was much better than the brooding that Draco did when he'd had too much.

"I'm tired, think I'll hit the hay," he murmured, still a little off-balance.

"Here, let me help you," she said, grabbing his arm and slinging it over her shoulder. "I've never been in your bedroom before, Neville."

"Well, this is your big chance," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"I bet you say that to all the witches," she said wryly.

"Of course not," he replied, looking down at her, still smiling that big smile.

She helped him into his bedroom and dumped him onto his bed fully dressed. He let out a big sigh. "I may have drank a little too much," he admitted, looking up at her with his big brown eyes.

"I don't think I've ever seen you drink," she said, moving to the foot of his bed to pull his shoes off. It was nothing new; shortly after the war had ended, Draco had gone through a dark period. She'd often found herself tucking him into bed at night after a particularly nasty binge.

"You don't have to do that, Pans," he said, bending his knees to take his feet away from her.

"I already got one foot, just let me do the other" she laughed, and grabbed his other foot to wrestle the shoe off.

He sighed and let her finish. "I feel guilty," he said.

"Don't, you'd do the same for me, I think," she said, throwing his shoes to the other side of the room. "Anyway, this means that you owe me, and I have no problem with that." She snapped his socks off his feet with flair and they joined his shoes on the floor.

"Shoulda known," he replied, barely able to feel as mortified as he should have when she began fussing with his blankets. He'd had too much fire whiskey and that was a fact. He woke up a little when he felt her weight on the side of his bed. He looked up to see her sitting next to him.

"Thanks for inviting me to go with you," she said, looking down at him with her big brown eyes. He shrugged as best as he could while lying down.

"Just thought it'd be nice for you to go out for once."

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I go out all the time." Yeah. She totally went out, sometimes. Hell, she'd just gone out with Astoria to Knockturn Alley, hadn't she? Like, a month ago? Okay, maybe two months ago.

"Wasn't the last time you went out a few months ago? Besides the wedding, that is. And I had to drag you kicking and screaming…"

"Okay, I think my boss knows a bit too much about my personal life," she said with a laugh. "You shouldn't worry about me. _You're_ the last of your single friends, remember?"

He scoffed and rolled over a little to get a better look at her. "You are, too. I don't make you work too much, do I? This isn't my fault?"

"No, I have plenty of time to date. No one's interested." She honestly didn't know how this conversation had turned from going out with friends to dating. He scoffed again and she looked at him with raised eyebrows. "It's true," she said, "I don't think I've been asked out in… three years?" Oh, why was she having this conversation with Neville Longbottom? He probably got asked out every other day—he was a war hero, a business owner, he was handsome…

"Whatever you say, Parkinson," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"If I have to call you Neville, you have to call me Pansy," she reminded him, standing up and smoothing out his blankets one last time before she got ready to go home. Now he'd sent her on a path of self-pity, and she'd probably be up all night wondering why she hadn't been on a date in Merlin knows how long. "I'm going home now," she whispered. "Don't drown in your own vomit, okay?" She walked to his bedroom door and opened it carefully so that it wouldn't squeak.

"Pansy?" his voice came from under the covers and she looked back at him.

"Yeah?"

"You're a nice girl."

"I know," she replied, raising an eyebrow and trying not to laugh.

"I should give you a raise."

"I think so too," she said with a sly smile. He laughed.

"I'm not serious," he said. "But really, you're nice."

"Thank you, Neville," she said. "I'm going to bed now."

"G'night," he mumbled.

"Night," she said, standing at the open door of his bedroom. She looked back and bit her lip. His eyes were closed and he was already starting to snore. _Boys._

She walked to the side of his bed and leaned over him. His eyes were closed, and his face was peaceful. He had a little bit of that scruff that never seemed to go away, and his lips… well, she didn't want to think about his lips.

It had been far too long since she'd gone on a date.

She ghosted her fingers over his cheek for a brief moment, testing how deeply asleep he was. He didn't seem to stir and she felt her face heat up. She couldn't believe what she was doing, but she did it anyway.

She leaned a little closer and gave him a peck on the cheek. He didn't make a move. Carefully, quietly, she snuck out of his room and shut the door, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. She wasn't sure what she'd just done, but she didn't want to think about it.

She crept to her apartment and crawled into bed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** It's me again! And I updated. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was a tough one to write, for whatever reason. I re-wrote and edited a ton, and I'm still not super happy with it.

Things are going to start getting serious (romance-wise) and I just want to ask you guys… do you like the way this is going? Is everyone in character? I don't want it to seem too fast or too slow or too boring.

Ahh I just worry, guys! I'm sorry! :)

Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought. I love to know what you think!

P.S. Watch out for the next chapter… some exciting stuff is about to happen!


	12. A wedding-related event

That morning, Neville awoke from pleasant dreams to a most unpleasant hangover. He lay in bed for a moment, trying to will away the headache before sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn the day before, but his shoes and socks were lying in the corner on the other side of the room.

He vaguely remembered watching as Pansy took off his shoes and tucked him into bed. He groaned. He was such an idiot!

His thoughts were all about her as he rummaged through his cabinets in search of a hangover potion. It didn't surprise him like it used to when she did something nice, but he still felt guilty. She must have thought he was a real slob, having to tuck him into bed. He finally found a hangover potion and threw it back as quickly as possible, trying not to think about the nasty taste.

He went out into the hallway and knocked on her door. A muffled "it's open!" came through the wood and he let himself in. She lounging on her couch and reading the _Daily Prophet_, looking thoughtful. "You're awake," she said, sounding surprised. "It's almost noon."

He felt his face flush and he shut the door behind him. "Sorry," he said. She moved her feet to allow him space to sit on her couch and he sat.

"Why?" she asked, still absorbed in the newspaper.

"Uh, you know. For last night."

She looked up from the paper now and grinned. "I wouldn't feel bad if I were you. You said you'd owe me."

He sort of remembered that. Wait, did he? "I owe you, then," he repeated, relieved and nervous at the same time. Relieved that she wasn't angry over last night (getting invited somewhere just to have to take care of your inviter couldn't be fun). Nervous because he didn't know what she had in store for him.

"Were your dress robes at Hermione's wedding rentals?"

"What?" That was an unexpected question. "No, they're mine," he said. They were sort of an indulgence, but he had been making more money than usual these past few years. "Why do you ask?"

"Astoria and Draco are having a wedding reception. Astoria wants us both to come." She was back to reading the paper again. She was much better at acting casual than he was.

"Another wedding?"

"Wedding-related event," she corrected. "The Malfoys and the Greengrasses aren't too happy about being left out of the real thing. I also think that Astoria wants lots of wedding gifts and this is the only way that's happening."

"So you want to go together?" he asked. She kept her eyes focused on the newspaper but he could still see her cheeks flush.

"Well, you did say you owed me one…"

"Yeah, let's go," he said, wondering why she felt like she had to blackmail him into going. She looked up with a grin.

"That's great. The reception is tomorrow. They're just throwing together a quick little party, nothing too major." She flattened the paper once again. "Have you seen the _Prophet_ today?" She folded it up and placed it in his lap.

The article she was pointing to had her name in bold letters: **Pansy Parkinson—slumming it or chumming it?**

"Are they sure 'chumming' isn't a dirty word?" he asked. She snorted with laughter.

"Keep reading."

"'To everyone's surprise, Pansy Parkinson was recently invited to the most anticipated event of the year—the Weasley-Granger wedding. Party-goers witnessed her socializing with the bride and other guests, and even dancing with the famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.' Hey, this is actually a positive article," he said, surprised.

"Isn't that refreshing? I bet you can guess who _didn't_ write the article."

"Rita Skeeter," he scoffed as he read further. "Did you see this part, Pansy?" he asked with a laugh.

"What part?"

He continued to read aloud, "'The press was not allowed into the event, but some anonymous guests told us that she was seen cozying up to Neville Longbottom, another famous Gryffindor.' Hey, I'm a famous Gryffindor," he said as she snatched the paper out of his hands.

"What kind of reporter asks guests about a wedding as people are leaving it? How tacky," she stated, her cheeks bright red. He laughed.

"That's a good article," he said. "A famous Gryffindor. Huh."

"Don't let it get to your head," she said hotly. "The point is, they aren't writing those nasty articles anymore. I must be old news." She had never thought that she'd be happy about being old news, but it was actually a relief. The idea of living a quiet, obscure little life seemed very appealing. Not to mention that people were starting to see her as separate from the Parkinsons—which was great, but it gave her ideas.

Big ideas. But she wasn't quite sure…

"What are you thinking about?" Neville's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Nothing," she said quickly. He raised an eyebrow. "Can we be ready to go to the reception by seven tomorrow?"

"Sure."

* * *

><p>That next day, Neville made the call to close early so they could both get ready to go to reception that night. Pansy was covered in dirt head-to-toe like she usually was by the end of the day, and he didn't think she'd forgive him she didn't have time to get ready. Not to mention that he was filthy.<p>

Pansy had told him not to worry about it but he'd insisted, with that kind smile he always had. She found herself spending extra time in front of the mirror, but definitely not because she was trying to impress anyone. At least that's what she told herself.

After putting on her accessories and finishing touches, she walked across the hall to knock on Neville's door. She didn't hear an answer, but at this point she figured that it wasn't a big deal to just walk in. They were constantly in and out of each other's apartments; it was almost like having a roommate.

She opened the door quietly and looked around. His living room and kitchen were empty—an easy observation, seeing how small the flat was. "Longbottom… I mean, Neville…" she sing-sang. She hummed and continued looking around the familiar apartment. She'd never looked around too closely. She wandered toward the fireplace to look at the pictures he kept on the mantle.

There was one of Hermione, Harry and Ron. Some of Loony (er, Luna) Lovegood and Hannah Abbot. _Not surprising_, she thought. There were older pictures, some of his grandmother. One of two people who looked like they might have been his parents. They made her think of her own father, so she tried not to look too closely at them. Another one caught her eye: it was him as a kid, probably before he'd entered Hogwarts. He was smiling with his little buck-teeth and his grandmother was behind him, trying to look stern but always breaking out into a small smile.

Just a few years later, he'd be dealing with her, she thought with a silent scoff. He was actually cute, but she'd done her damnedest to make him think otherwise. If only there was a way to make it up to him. She frowned, thinking about the nastier insults she'd flung his way. She thought about the hurt on his boyish face.

"Pansy?" she nearly leaped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. She turned around and nearly screamed at the sight of him.

He was shirtless, with only a towel around his waist to keep him modest. It was _quite_ a change from the image she'd just been staring at. "N-Neville!" she exclaimed, her voice a few octaves higher than it should have been.

"I didn't know you were here," he said. I just got out of the—"

"Shower, yes, I see," she said, her voice shaky. "I—oh, I'm so sorry, how rude it was for me to… barge in like that!" She was apologizing, but she couldn't stop staring at him; his bare chest and broad shoulders, muscles hardened from working in the atrium, his wet hair…

She finally tore her eyes away and faced the wall away from him.

"Sorry," he said, footsteps leading him into his room. "I was going to just change right into my dress robes but I was covered in dirt…"

She wasn't really listening to him; instead she stared at the wall and tried to get herself together. It wasn't the first time she'd seen a man naked, she reasoned, so it was stupid that she was acting like a twelve-year old girl who'd just seen her first glimpse of a dirty witch's magazine.

Still, the image of him standing, wet, in nothing but a towel had been burned into her brain. She felt her face heat up and she fanned herself a little, trying to cool down.

"Alright, I'm decent," he joked after a few minutes. "Sorry about that."

"No, it was my fault," she said, glad to find that she sounded somewhat normal. "You didn't answer when I knocked and I just… I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have let myself in…"

"It's alright," he said with a grin. He'd never seen Pansy so flustered, and it was sort of strange. She was bright red and out of breath. Sure, it was embarrassing to be caught in nothing but a towel, but any awkwardness he felt was out-shined by her discomfort.

"Let's get going," she said breathlessly, stepping into the floo and waiting for him to join her.

They stood together in the fireplace, and at the same time said, "Greengrass Manor!"

* * *

><p>The day before, Pansy had left Neville under the impression that the wedding reception would be a smaller gathering; a hastily put-together shindig.<p>

If this was a small get-together, he hated to imagine what a big one would look like. The Greengrass Manor was a little smaller than the Parkinson or Malfoy Manors, but it was stuffed with people. There was a huge table filled with food and wine, with servers milling around and serving people hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne.

"The Greengrasses are a little lower on the social scale," she said into his ear. "They've never been popular in high society, but they've got a huge fortune that keeps them in the right circles." That seemed a little ridiculous to him, but he didn't say anything. High society was a completely foreign concept to him.

She led him to the couple of honor and hugged Astoria and Draco both. When Neville reached his hand out to shake Draco's, he saw a look in the other man's eyes that said, "Save me".

"Isn't this fun?" Astoria asked with a great smile on her face. "I'm so glad we did this. Don't look like that, Draco, we're getting tons of gifts."

"The greatest gift right now would be getting the hell out of—Oh, Mr. Greengrass!" he was interrupted when he saw Astoria's father. He was a huge man, dressed in old-fashioned dark green and black robes that touched the floor.

"Hello, son!" his voice was loud and jolly, and Neville could tell that he'd been drinking. "It's about time for the first dance. Go out there and make me proud! And who are these people?" he asked, gesturing toward Neville and Pansy.

"Daddy, this is my best friend, Pansy Parkinson and her friend Neville Longbottom."

"Ah, Pansy, I should have recognized you. I've done business with your father." he said, smiling through his big mustache. "And Longbottom… I've heard that name before." Neville almost flinched. He hated when people remembered his name from the Final Battle.

"He owns Longbottom's Botany, sir," Pansy said gracefully. "Maybe you've heard of it?"The older man frowned.

"Yes, yes that must be it," he muttered. "Good to meet you, young man! I always like meeting new money. Alright, Astoria, you two had better get out onto the floor and start the first dance."

The crowded ballroom seemed to go completely silent as the couple walked out to the middle of the floor. Astoria was blushing, but Malfoy looked completely composed. Neville guessed that he'd probably been groomed for moments like this for his whole life.

It was strange that he was here in this moment, and even stranger that he'd been to their actual wedding. But he had to admit that they made a good-looking couple. He felt an arm slip into his and he looked down at Pansy, who gave him a friendly smile. For a second, he completely forgot about the dancing couple—he wondered if he and Pansy looked like they were dating. He wasn't really that worried about it, he discovered. If people thought that they were together, maybe it would mean that other guys wouldn't ask her to dance.

He looked down at her again, as if she'd caused that strange thought. What was he thinking? He didn't care if she danced with other guys. They were just friends, and even more importantly they were boss-employee, landlord-tenant. It would be too weird to add boyfriend-girlfriend to that list.

"Oh no," she muttered, pulling on his arm and jerking him out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, letting her lead him out to the dance floor to join the other couples. She was peering over his shoulder.

"Um, it's nothing, really," she said as they waltzed, "it's Daphne. You know Daphne?"

"Er, not really," he said. "Who's that?"

"Astoria's sister. She was in our year," she said, somewhat steering him so she could keep an eye on her.

"You don't like each other?"

"Oh, we like each other just fine. It's just that… well, Astoria's got this ridiculous idea," she laughed nervously. "She says that Daphne knows you and she has kind of a crush on you. And that's all well and good but she's kind of… well, crazy."

Neville grinned. "Where is she?" he asked, glancing around.

"Behind you," she replied. In fact, she could see her, quite clearly looking at Neville. She gave her a smile and Daphne smirked.

"What does she look like?"

"Men," she sighed, making him laugh.

"Can't blame a bloke for being curious."

"Okay. She's blond. Looks like Astoria, but not as cute." No, there was nothing "cute" about Daphne Greengrass. She had her golden blond hair in a French twist. She was wearing a skin-tight dress and her legs went on for miles. It made Pansy feel like a frumpy little girl, and she felt an ugly twinge of jealousy. The song ended and Daphne began to walk toward them.

"Hello, Pansy, it's been so long since I've seen you!" she said, smiling to show off her perfectly white teeth. "How have you been?"

"I've been very good, Daphne, thank you! You look gorgeous," Pansy replied with a big fake smile. Normally, she liked Daphne (with the exception of a few catfights here and there in school), but tonight she wanted to shoo her away.

"You too! I love your dress. I think I saw it in the thrift-shop window a few days ago." There was the first back-handed compliment. "I hear thrift-shopping is all the rage these days. Everyone wants the bohemian look," Daphne said, smoothing her own expensive skirts. Pansy felt her face flush. She'd bought the dress at the thrift shop assuming that no one would notice.

"Thank you!" Pansy said, holding her fake smile.

"Now who is this?" the blond asked, looking Neville up and down. He had to admit, Daphne was very pretty, but something about her made him uncomfortable.

"This is Neville Longbottom." _But you already knew that, didn't you?_ she wanted to finish. "He's with me tonight."

"Oh, is he your new beau?" she asked.

"No," Pansy said, reluctant about what she had to say next. "He's my very good friend—"

"Then you won't mind if I steal him away for a dance, will you?" Pansy looked from him to Daphne, looking a little helpless. Neville shrugged.

"Oh, of course I don't mind," she said after a moment.

"Just a few dances, alright Pans?" Daphne said, moving in to take Neville's hand. "Why don't you dance with my cousin, Marin? He's always had a crush on you."

"Marin…?" Pansy began to ask, but Daphne was quick and clever. She was already leading a confused-looking Neville out onto the dance floor. He mouthed "I'm sorry" to her before disappearing into the crowd. Pansy wanted to stomp her feet, and for a second she had to remind herself that she was an adult. She'd known that Daphne had a thing for Neville and she should have been prepared for that. And anyway, what did she care who he danced with? He was just stupid, stupid Neville Longbottom!

"Pansy?" She turned around to see the very cousin that Daphne had been talking about. Short, stout Marin, who'd always had a weird crush on her.

"Hello, Marin!" Pansy said with a smile. He was right on eye-level with her, which meant he'd grown a little since she'd last seen him. He was quite young, actually—he'd barely turned nineteen if she remembered correctly. He had short, greased back hair and he was wearing dark blue robes. Poor Marin, she thought, who still hadn't grown out of his teenaged acne.

"I was wondering if maybe (he took a second to wipe his nose with his sleeve) you want to dance?" She did her best to smile.

"Of course, Marin. But just one dance, my legs are really tired." It was a half-truth. Okay, it was a total lie.

"Great!" he said, taking her hand and all but dragging her out onto the floor with the other dancers. For a split second she saw Draco who was dancing with Astoria. He was pointing and laughing at her and she stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

><p>Daphne was a nice enough person, he supposed, but this was the third time he'd been out dancing in a matter of a few weeks. He told her so and with a graceful smile she led him out of the ballroom and onto a large balcony that overlooked the Greengrass Garden.<p>

"So, how is it that our Pansy knows you so well?" the leggy girl asked, looking up at him with blue eyes and batting her lashes. He wasn't totally sure what was happening; even he could admit that he didn't know the first thing about girls. But if he didn't know any better, Daphne Greengrass was hitting on him on a starlit balcony.

He didn't know how he felt about that.

"Er, she works for me," he replied. She leaned on the balcony, facing him.

"I've known her since my Hogwarts days," she said, twirling a piece of hair. "So… are you two… seeing each other?"

Okay, she was definitely hitting on him. _Get it together, Longbottom_.

"Er, no, but we're really good friends," he said, noticing that she was moving closer and closer.

"What a relief," she said with a smile. "I was worried that I'd be barking up the wrong tree with you. And I wouldn't want to cross Pansy," she said softly. "She's a little territorial, you know what I mean?"

He really didn't. "I haven't noticed," he replied.

"I'm glad you didn't want to dance," she sighed. "I was getting tired. I much prefer sitting out here on the balcony. This is my one of my favorite spots in the manor." She gave him a smile. "It's even better when there's company."

"I guess," he replied, not really knowing what else to say. Daphne was an exceedingly pretty girl, but he hardly knew her. He wondered what Pansy had gotten up to. Daphne grinned up at him and stood on her tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. Neville stared at her for a moment.

"Er… I came here with Pansy as kind of a date," he said, trying to be as nice as he could.

Daphne smirked. "_Kind of_ a date?" she asked.

He laughed nervously. "Yeah. She asked me to come with her."

The girl sighed. "I suppose I stole you away then," she said with a good-natured smile. "I'll be going out to the ballroom, I suppose. But feel free to stay. The view from here really is lovely." She left, but not before placing one last peck on his cheek.

He stood alone for a moment, shocked. Had he just turned down Daphne Greengrass? He watched her walk away and wondered what in the world was going on. Had he stumbled into an alternate dimension? Was he dreaming?

"Neville? There you are." He turned to see Pansy. She looked flustered. Her face was red and her long hair was slightly mussed. "Oh, you're alone. Where did Daphne go?"

"Er, I dunno," he replied, relieved to see her. "What happened to you?"

"I just escaped Marin," she said, catching her breath. "Draco told me I'd find you here. I was nervous I'd interrupt something." She walked to the balcony next to him and sighed.

"Interrupt what?"

She flushed. "Uh, you know. Daphne took you out here…"

"Oh," he said, still feeling a little shocked about that whole encounter. "No, she just left."

She looked surprised. "Oh." They stood, leaning against the balcony and looking out into the huge garden. It was getting dark and the stars were beginning to show. The night air was beginning to get cooler and cooler; a sign that summer was fading into fall.

"I've had a weird night," he said after a moment. She looked at him and laughed.

"I have too, actually."

"What happened?"

"Oh… Marin was just being himself," she said with a shrug. "Maybe I'll tell you later."

"I don't think I've ever met him."

"He's much younger than we are. He just graduated Hogwarts two years ago."

"Oh." He took a glance at Pansy. In the back of his mind, he knew that he had sort of turned down Daphne Greengrass for her. He wondered if he should tell her what had just happened.

"What happened with Daphne?" she asked as if she were reading his mind. "I mean, not that it's any of my business. I'm just curious."

He took a nervous breath. "I'm not exactly sure. I think she kissed me on the cheek."

Pansy's eyes widened and she felt that familiar pang of jealousy. "Really?"

"Yeah, I told her I didn't want to dance and I think she got the wrong idea," he said with a nervous glance in her direction.

"Oh." She focused on looking at the gardens below. It was just her luck, she supposed, that Daphne would swoop in on her date. Well, not exactly her date. They weren't _dating_. But he had still committed to going to the reception with her. She wanted to feel angry, but she felt more morose than anything. "It makes sense," she said, trying to sound indifferent. "Daphne is gorgeous."

"It wasn't really like that," he replied, frowning. She looked so… sad, and he felt guilty. Maybe he should have made more of an effort to stick next to her, but he hadn't been sure if she wanted to dance with him all night. Now he knew for sure that he hadn't stumbled into an alternate universe, because he was here, messing things up.

"No, I don't mind," she said with a small smile. "I mean, I guess it's just…"

"What's wrong?"

She sighed. "Her dress robes, her hair, her make-up," she replied, avoiding his gaze. "She looks great. And she's right, I did buy this dress from that stupid thrift shop." He took a moment to look at her. The dress was simple and pretty, a light mint green with a dark green rope tied around her waist. It looked perfectly fine on her, beautiful even. She went on. "I hate this wedding. It thought this would be fun but I feel stupid."

"You look nice," he said quickly, not entire sure how to deal with this type of situation. She gave him a skeptical look. "I mean it," he continued. "You don't need expensive robes to look pretty. You look nice all the time, even when you're covered in dirt."

She bit her lip, as if she were trying to decide if she believed him or not. "Thanks," she murmured. She felt a little better, but she had to ask. "Do you like Daphne?"

He shifted and shrugged. "She's nice."

"What did you do when she kissed you?" she asked, scooting closer until her arm was touching his, absorbing his warmth.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No," she replied, hoping he wouldn't see her goosebumps. He shrugged off his overcoat and handed it to her. "No, I'm really fine," she protested. "Answer the question."

"Put on the coat and I'll tell you," he said with a grin. She huffed and let him set the jacket on her shoulders.

"Stop deflecting," she said as she pulled the corners of his jacket together like a blanket. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not really."

"Alright. Well?"

He stood still for a moment, looking at her face. She looked small and sweet in his jacket, and she was still so close. Her looked into her eyes and at her lips. "I told her…" his heart was beating fast, "I told her I was here with you." She was so close that what he did next took barely any effort. He leaned down and caught her lips with his in a gentle, brief kiss.

Pansy couldn't help but close her eyes when she saw him lean toward her. The kiss was so sweet and short, but her heart began to race anyway. He. Was. Kissing her! The kiss ended as suddenly as it began and she opened her eyes.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "Unless you want to stay longer."

She blinked. Had that really just happened? "Yes, I think we've stayed long enough," she said weakly. "Shall we floo home?"

He looked out at the crowded ballroom. They would have to fight through the sea of people to get to the floo network and he wasn't looking forward to that. It'd ruin… whatever moment they were having. "Let's apparate," he said. She surprised him when she grabbed his hand and squeezed, and with the familiar pull of apparition, they were standing in the hallway between their apartments.

"Sorry," Pansy said. "I just really wanted to get home." She still hadn't let go of his hand, but he didn't know if it was because she wanted to hold it or if she was still trying to orient herself after apparating.

"That's alright," he said, feeling his face flush. He wasn't sure what would happen next—did they go into their respective homes? Would she get angry at him for kissing her? Would he get to kiss her again?

Pansy smiled up at him, a big, genuine grin, and she used the leverage from his hand to pull him down and kiss him again. He barely registered his jacket falling off of her shoulders and onto the floor as she flung her arms around his neck.

And he kissed her right back. She sighed as he raked his fingers through her hair, shivered as they ran gently down her back. It'd been a long time since she'd been properly kissed, she thought, and by a really good kisser at that. Neville was holding her close, so that his chest was pressed up against hers. Finally, they went up for air, and she found herself pressed delightfully up against the wall.

"What are we doing?" he breathed. She kissed his neck and he almost squeaked.

"Dunno, think we should keep doing it, though!" she said before kissing him full on the lips. Part of him wanted to stop for a second and ask what was happening, make sure she really wanted this (or at least make sure he wasn't dreaming). But her lips were so soft and sweet, and her grip was so tight (or was it his grip? He wasn't sure) that he didn't dare stop. She tasted spicy and citrusy, like she'd been eating oranges and cinnamon. He vaguely remembered that dish being served at the reception.

He moved to place kisses on her cheek and trailed down to her jaw and she whimpered as he nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. It was the smell of sweet, musky perfume mixed with something that was distinctly _her._ She gasped as one of his hands reached down to stroke the part of her leg that was just barely covered with the hem of her dress.

For a moment they stood frozen, taking deep breaths. It was long enough to stop and really think about what was happening. He lifted his head and looked down at her, not ready to let her go.

"Neville," she said softly, opening her eyes, trying to find her way back down to reality. She wanted him, she really did—but she wasn't so sure that jumping right into bed would be a good idea. She had a habit of doing that, and none of those relationships had panned out. He was different, she knew that for sure, but she knew that once she was back down to earth, common sense would tell her to wait. At least until she knew what this was. "Maybe we should go to bed. Oh, no, I mean separately!" she said quickly, feeling her cheeks flame. She was pressed up against a wall with a hand up her skirt and _now_ she was embarrassed.

"Yeah, okay," he said, letting her go. She still felt a little dizzy and she tried to smooth her hair and fix her dress.

"I think we should… continue this tomorrow," she said, trying to sound like she had a grip on what was happening. Neville smiled and he had a blush on his cheeks; something that she found immensely attractive.

"Tomorrow," he said with a nod. He leaned forward and she thought he was going to kiss her again, but he only kissed her cheek. "Good night, Pansy."

She was breathless as she watched him walk into his flat and shut the door, smooth as silk. She went into her own flat and had a quiet, personal freak-out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Oh. My. Gosh! It finally happened, the first kiss! How exciting! This was so hard to write. I'm going to be honest here… I've never written a really descriptive kiss! This was my first time! Ack, I am just not very brave, but eventually (and not necessarily in this fic) I'd like to write a love scene.

I hope I did a good job with this kiss. There will be many more to come and I just want it to be perfect! I am so nervous about the pace of this story, and I figure chapter 12 is a pretty good place for the kisses to be happening.

ANYWAY, aside from all that, I have a little gift for you readers! It's a little thing I'd like to call the BONUS chapter. It was something I wrote and decided that it wasn't essential to the story (and it's a little silly), but it's still entertaining. Did you wonder what Pansy was doing while Neville was on the balcony with Daphne? Well, wonder no more, because here it is:

* * *

><p><strong>Bonus Chapter 12.5:<strong>

Marin led her in an awkward dance—he wasn't as smooth a dancer as she was used to, and she was constantly having to look down to make sure he didn't step on her feet.

"It's been a few years, Pansy," he said. She could tell that he was trying to lean in close to talk in her ear (in an attempt to be sexy, no doubt) but she successfully avoided him.

"I know," she replied in the most polite voice she could muster, reminding herself of how Narcissa Malfoy spoke when she was entertaining guests. "What has it been, two years? I think the last time I saw you was in passing, during your graduation party."

"Yeah," he breathed. "You gave me a pen. I still have it."

"Oh, my," she said with a little laugh. Yes, she remembered that pen. She and her father had both forgotten about the graduation party, and by extension they'd forgotten to get him a gift. Her father had received a pen from a client and he'd regifted it to Marin. Not that she would ever admit that. "How nice of you to keep it!"

"It reminds me of you," he said in his strange, nasally voice, looking right into her eyes. She wanted to break the eye-contact, but she wasn't sure where else she was supposed to look.

"Oh, my," she repeated, her voice a little weak. How was she going to get out of this one? She prayed to whatever god there was to send someone to cut in. Maybe Draco would dance with her? Or Neville? She glanced around for a moment, unable to see either man.

"I got a job at the Ministry. I'm in charge of the mail room," he continued. His breath smelled like peppermint, as if he'd popped in a candy before coming over to dance with her.

"You must be very busy," she replied, glad to be steering into safer conversation territory.

"I'm making quite a bit of money. Not to mention my inheritance." She frowned.

"How nice for you," she said, wondering where exactly he was going with this. Was he going to make a jab about her disinheritance? Was he going to make a joke about how much money he had? The song ended and Pansy separated from him before he had a chance to say anymore. She didn't hate Marin, but she was pretty sure she would start to if he said something about her getting kicked out of her family. "It was so nice to dance with you, have a good night," she said brusquely, wiping her hands off on her dress. His hands had been sweaty.

He cleared his throat. "Actually, Pansy, I was hoping I could speak with you… privately." She raised an eyebrow.

"About what?" she knew she sounded rude but at this point she didn't care. His face flushed red.

"Something private," he replied. She followed him out of the ballroom and toward the library. There were still people about outside in the hallway, taking a break from dancing and chatting and drinking, so Pansy figured she didn't have too much to worry about as far as Marin_ trying_ anything.

He opened the library door for her and she entered. He led her further into the room to stop by a bookshelf and he turned to face her. He straightened out his coat and slicked back his hair. She wrinkled her nose. "What did you want to talk about, Marin?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Listen, Pansy," he said, his voice a little shaky. "I read in the paper that you're destitute. I heard you have to work in a plant shop." His voice didn't sound judgmental or mean—in fact, he sounded quite troubled.

"I'm—I'm not destitute," she replied, trying not to sound angry that he was concerned. "I'm doing quite well, actually. I have a job and I'm making my own money."

"Daphne said that your dress was second-hand," he said sadly. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"So? It looks good on me," she said, smoothing the fabric. "Honestly, Marin, you don't have to worry about me."

"Oh, sweet Pansy!" he exclaimed, stepping closer to her. "You poor thing! My charming, delicate flower."

Okay, this was not what she had been expecting. She took a step back and he just took a step forward and continued talking. "I'm making quite a bit of money, you know. More than enough to support two people…"

"Marin!" she exclaimed, trying to stop him before he said anymore.

"No, please listen!" he said, taking her hand. "Women like you—delicate, polite, beautiful… well-bred. You deserve to live a certain way. And that's been taken away from you," he said very quickly, as if afraid she would run away. He was kind of right; she was considering legging it.

"I'm perfectly fine," she replied, trying to tug her hand away from his. "I assure you, I'm doing quite well on my own…"

"You're a prideful woman," he gushed, "I knew it wouldn't be easy to convince you. I hadn't even dared speak to you about it, until your Draco married my cousin. How broken your heart must be."

"Trust me, I can live without Draco!" She was _this close_ to raising her voice at him.

"Yes, you can!" he exclaimed. "All this time, I was afraid to say anything, thinking that Draco Malfoy had your heart. But now that he's married…" he gazed at her hopefully. "Do you understand what I mean?"

"I think I do," she said, her eyes wide and her brows furrowed. "I think I'll just go before you say anymore."

"It wouldn't be too much of a shock, would it, if I told you how I adore you?" he said as if she hadn't just announced that she was leaving. "And a union like ours wouldn't surprise anyone, you know. In situations like yours, it's not uncommon for women to… marry up."

_Marry up?_ She almost smacked him. "Excuse me, Mr. Greengrass, but I must be going," she snapped, pulling her hand away from his.

"Pansy!"

She slammed the library door in response and ran out into the hallway, ducking between gaggles of people so that Marin wouldn't chase after her. She plucked a flute of champagne from a server and downed it as fast as she could.

She needed to find Neville and get out of there. Even if he was dancing with Daphne still, she was determined to tear her off of him and force him to side-along if she had to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** That's all for now! Please review and tell me what you think!


	13. Phrasing!

**A/N:**

_Oh my gosh_ you guys! I'm so sorry for the late update. But it's actually not my fault this time! This chapter was finished and ready to edit two weeks ago when my computer just shut off and wouldn't turn back on. So I took it to my handy dandy computer place and I waited… and got a glorious burst of creative energy and inspiration… that I couldn't do anything with.

So I'm posting this chapter for you in the hopes that you'll forgive me. :)

Also, I just want to thank you for the wonderful reviews I've been getting. You make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. So please enjoy!

* * *

><p>The next day, Pansy and Neville opened the shop as usual. People were milling in and out of the store, picking out flowers for loved ones or plants for their potions. Pansy kept busy (or she at least kept up the illusion), occasionally sending glances Neville's way.<p>

She had woken up that morning with the realization that the kiss she'd received the previous night was _not_ a dream. The more she thought about it, the faster her heart raced. She was having a hard time focusing on working or even talking to customers.

She'd never received a kiss and not known the intentions of the person she was kissing. With Draco and Theo, there was courting, and kissing was expected after a certain amount of time. With Blaise, it was so physical that it only made sense that they'd kiss (and do other things) until the fling was over.

But with Neville… she wasn't so sure. He'd grown to be a good and reliable friend—he'd never expressed any interest in her besides platonic concern. But they'd kissed _twice!_ And it was so good that she'd gone to bed wondering if she'd imagined it.

But she found herself doing the one thing that annoyed her the most: second guessing herself.

Maybe he thought the kiss was a mistake. It seemed like a possibility. To him, the first kiss could have been nothing more than a friendly one. And she had been the one to launch herself at him when they got home, wasn't she? He stomach twisted into knots at the thought. What if he'd thought that the kisses meant nothing? What if… what if…

* * *

><p>"That's it for the day," she heard Neville saying, dusting off his hands and locking the front door.<p>

"Great," Pansy said as she finished balancing the books and making sure the inventory was correct. Now that work was over, they couldn't dance around each other anymore. That thought made her nervous. She lingered over the inventory pages for a few moments longer, pretending to write down notes so that she could have a few more seconds to think. She felt her heart speed up. _Get it together, Parkinson! Play it cool._

"So, I was thinking," his voice was suddenly very, very close, and she looked up to see him standing right next to her. "If you're hungry, we could go to the Leaky and grab some dinner."

"Dinner?" she asked, setting the quill in her hand onto the book and closing it.

His face flushed. "Yeah. If you're not hungry we could just grab some butterbeers and… I don't know. Talk?"

"Sure," she said, unable to keep herself from smiling. Wanting to talk was a good thing, right? "Like a date?" she blurted. She nearly slapped her hands over her mouth the moment she said it. What had happened to playing it cool?

"If you want it to be," he said, his face flushing.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've been kind of nervous all day, actually," he admitted, and she wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless. Only Neville Longbottom could say something like that and still seem so honest and genuine and… attractive.

"Me, too," she replied, feeling her face heat up.

"You?" he asked, incredulous. He gave her a small smile and held out his hand to help her out of her chair. "Let's go get dinner. I'll pay."

* * *

><p>The Leaky Cauldron was relatively empty, which Neville had been glad for. He didn't really want to talk about… whatever they were going to talk about in the midst of loud, drunk people.<p>

Pansy found herself trying to gain courage between sips of butterbeer and bites of her dinner. "So," she said, trying to sound casual. "You wanted to talk?" There, she would make him initiate conversation.

"Er, yeah," he said. "So."

"So." She studied his face, trying to seem cool and collected. He grinned and laughed a little.

"I kissed you last night," he said, trying to seem as composed as possible.

"I kissed you back," she replied, restraining a nervous giggle. She took another gulp of her drink just to hide her face. "So, did you… like it?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, it wasn't a bad kiss."

"No, not at all," she replied, feeling a little bit braver. "So do you think it was a bad idea?"

"Uh…" Neville honestly didn't know the answer to that question. He stared at his food for a moment, trying to think of an answer. He really hated to see it that way, but maybe the kiss _had_ been a bad idea. "Maybe," he replied, frowning. Logically—it was totally inappropriate. He shouldn't have kissed her at the party, and he definitely shouldn't have put his hand up her skirt in the hallway. Suddenly he felt terribly guilty. Here was a girl, a really nice girl, who worked for him and who paid rent to him. What if she had felt obligated or pressured to kiss him?

"What's wrong?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He frowned. "Pansy. Are you… mad? Or upset about… it?"

"What?" she nearly did a spit-take. "No, not at all! I mean, should I be?"

"No!" he said quickly. "I mean, I didn't… cross any boundaries or anything, right?"

She snorted, "We're in and out of each other's flats every day. We work together and we practically live together. I'm not even sure we _have_ boundaries. Maybe something like this was just bound to happen."

"What? Bound to happen?" That seemed almost worse than the previous scenario. That they had been… bound to kiss just because they were in close proximity.

"Well, we're around each other all the time. My father says that when two people spend enough time together they're bound to fall in… _kiss,_" she corrected, feeling mortified at what she'd almost said. "What I mean is… be attracted to each other." It was probably too late to salvage it, she thought. What a stupid blunder. How come she could be smooth around nearly everyone but him?

He didn't seem to notice. "I don't think that's true," he said, crossing his arms.

"I was around Draco all the time, and we dated," she pointed out. "And then there was Blaise, and _then_ Theo, all of whom I shared a house with in school."

Neville felt sick just thinking about it. He really didn't want a re-cap of her previous relationships. "I don't think that's the case with us."

"Us," she repeated. "Did you think it was a bad idea, though?"

"If you think it was a bad idea, it was a bad idea," he said, not with anger or bitterness, but with a quiet resolution that made her wonder if he didn't really understand what she was saying.

A thought struck her, and it struck her hard—she was in control here. She had the decision-making power, and she hadn't even had to fight for it. She'd never experienced that before. In all of her previous relationships, she was operating on the other person's terms, not her own. She was always locked in a power struggle and she'd never truly felt that her opinion had equal weight with the men she'd been with. But now, with Neville… He was giving her choices. If she didn't want him, he would back off and never bring up the matter again. And if she did want him…

"I don't think… It wasn't a bad idea," she said, taking a deep breath and giving him an anxious smile.

It wasn't a proclamation of love, and it wasn't an incredible romantic gesture, but it was a possibility, and that pleased Neville more than he thought it could have. Just a few weeks ago he'd have scoffed at the idea of snogging his employee, but now he almost couldn't wait to see what happened next.

* * *

><p>They walked home in companionable silence. Pansy had boxed up her dinner and was carrying it with her in a little bag. Neville offered to carry it for her, just to be gentlemanly, but she'd just laughed at him and shook her head.<p>

She stood patiently as he unlocked the door to the shop. When they got in, he surprised her by making a beeline for the atrium rather than the stairs to the apartments.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "Don't tell me you're going to work right now. Didn't we take care of everything today?"

"I just wanted to check on something," he said, his voice trailing further and further into the back. "You want to take a look?"

She sighed and set her bag of food down on the bottom of the stairs and followed him into the atrium. "What are we looking at?" she asked as she followed his trail deep into the atrium. They were way in the back, where she knew he liked to keep the more exotic flora.

She found him standing in front of a large pot with a large plant sticking out from the soil. He gave her a boyish grin and reached his hand out. Her heart beat just a little faster as she took it and he pulled her closer to show her what he was looking at.

"Remember that delivery last week?" he asked. Honestly, she never really paid attention, but she nodded anyway. "This was it. The African Star Orchid."

She studied the plant. It was tall, probably bigger than any orchid she'd ever seen. "Where's the flower?" she asked. It looked like Neville had gotten the bad end of the bargain, she thought. She'd have to go back to last week's finances and find out how much he'd spent on it.

"Just wait a moment," he said, smiling like he had a secret. She couldn't help but smile back when he squeezed her hand ever-so gently. She looked back at the plant and waited. It was a rather ugly stalk, she thought, without any flowers.

"Nothing's happening," she said blandly, looking up at him. He pointed to the plant and she looked again and almost gasped.

The stem began to shiver. At first, the motion was so small that she could hardly see it, but then it began to quiver more and more until she began to worry that it would somehow get hurt. But then, it began to slow. The stalk began to bend lower and lower until it was almost level to her eyes, and a budding flower began to grow. The bloom was a pure, pale blue—it almost seemed to be glowing in the moonlight.

She couldn't help but smile. "That was amazing," she said. "What happened?"

"It only blooms at night in the moonlight," he replied. "I've been trying to get this one for ages."

"Are we selling it?" she asked, reaching her hand out to gently touch the petals. The flower quaked again for a moment and she withdrew her hand.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It'd sell for a pretty good price but I hate to part with something this rare." He was looking right at her, and not the orchid. She looked down at their conjoined hands and back at his face and her heart jumped.

It occurred to her that perhaps Neville Longbottom wasn't so clumsy or awkward as she'd always assumed, because he'd just drawn her into a moonlit atrium to watch a beautiful flower blossom. It was possibly the most romantic moment of her life. She couldn't help but stand on her tip-toes to give him a kiss.

This time, the kiss was not rushed or uncontrolled. It was soft and tender. Neville let go of her hand to stroke her hair, to pull her just a little closer. Her lips were so soft and full, her body was so yielding and it felt so natural to pull her flush against him. Her tongue danced across his lips and he deepened the kiss. He wanted to memorize this perfect moment, to make it last forever.

Pansy couldn't stop touching him; running her hands through his hair, feeling the stubble on his cheeks, winding her arms around his neck to pull closer. She was close to throwing away the "not hopping right into bed" idea—it had been a long, long time since she'd been kissed so thoroughly, so passionately, and it had been even longer since she'd been intimate with anyone. She pulled away for a moment to catch her breath, she needed to think. But as soon as her lips were separated from his he'd moved on to kiss her neck, and suddenly rational thought was becoming more and more difficult.

"Neville," she breathed, all too aware that her voice had come out in a pathetic little whimper.

"Yes?" His voice seemed to rumble through her and she wasn't sure she could tell him that they should stop. She was having a hard time remembering why she would want to. He nipped at her collarbone and she dismissed the thought right away. There was no way she could stop now.

"Where did you learn—oh…" His hand was making its way up her side, brushing dangerously close to her breasts. Never mind. She didn't need to know. "Let's go… let's…"

"Upstairs?" he asked breathlessly, hands still tangled in her hair and around her waist.

"Yes." Pansy usually tried to stay classy in the face of unusual or frantic situations, but tonight she found herself scrambling up the stairs faster than she ever had. She heard him laughing from behind her as she nearly tripped on the way up. She turned to stick her tongue out at him before hurrying to the top and disappearing from his view.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw her opening the door to her apartment. Her hair had fallen from her bun and she wore a smile that beckoned. She was a vision.

"Well, are you just going to stand there?" she asked before disappearing into the flat.

She'd left the door wide open.

* * *

><p>Over the next few days, Pansy and Neville worked together as if there was nothing different. They functioned as a perfectly normal, if not cohesive team, dividing up duties and working efficiently like they always did.<p>

At closing time, Neville would lock up the shop while Pansy marked the inventory and counted the profits from the day. They'd make sure that all of the plants were taken care of, and tend to the ones that needed a little extra care.

And then some nights… well, most nights, Neville found himself knocking at her door (sometimes she even knocked at his). Her home was so warm and bright and feminine, which he actually liked. Every day his flat seemed more and more unappealing, so he'd wander over to hers and inevitably wind up in her bed.

"Are you staying over again?" she asked softly. He watched her get dressed in the corner of his eye.

"Only if you want," he replied, trying his best to sound non-committal. He felt her hop into bed and crawl under the covers. She seemed to gravitate toward him; he put his arm out on her pillow and she laid her head on it.

"Oh, do what you will," she sighed, sounding equally non-committal. "It's getting cold, anyway, you might as well stay and help me keep warm." She gave him a brilliant grin and he felt his heart swell. He was dangerously attached to Pansy Parkinson.

He'd stay in her bed nearly every night, but they barely slept. They'd stay up all night talking (among other things), and the next day he'd be so tired that he promised himself he'd sleep in his own bed the next night and get a decent sleep. It almost never happened.

Thankfully, tomorrow was Sunday, which meant that he didn't have to get up early to open the shop. Almost a whole week had passed since they first kissed, and he wondered if whatever they were doing was happening too fast.

"I don't know about you, but I'm sleeping in tomorrow," she was saying with a yawn.

"I'm knackered," he replied. "You keep me up all night." She snorted and rolled over to face him.

"_Sorry,_" she said without the slightest hint of remorse. "If it's such a problem, you can go to your own bed. I'm sure it's beginning to collect dust."

"Oh, I'm alright here," he said, smiling. She rolled her eyes her eyes and turned away from him.

"I'm sleeping now," she announced. "Don't keep me up, Longbottom. Or I'll hex you."

"Alright." He reached his arm out and pulled her a little closer.

"Good night. I'll try not to hog the bed," she whispered. She really was tired; she hadn't slept much since Neville had begun turning up in her bed. But it was hard to sleep when he was right there, winding his arms around her, his breath on her neck.

She began to doze, but woke up a few hours later. She lay awake for a few moments, looking out the window at the waning moon.

Neville was still next to her, fast asleep. He'd turned over and taken most of the blankets. They were won back fairly easily, and he didn't even wake up. She rested her head back onto her pillow and studied him.

They hadn't really talked much more about what they were doing past the first few kisses, and then it had all gone so fast from there. She supposed that for now, it was easier to do this without thinking too hard about it, but eventually they'd have to sit down and define whatever they were doing. Maybe he'd be her boyfriend.

She blushed at the thought, and suddenly she felt silly. Oh, she needed advice. She needed to talk to Draco and ask for a man's perspective. And if he teased her for shacking up with Neville Longbottom, she'd just have to hex him.

* * *

><p>"Wait, you only just started hooking up?"<p>

"Don't call it 'hooking up'," Pansy snapped, crossing her arms. She was sitting at the dining table of Draco and Astoria's cottage (which was not as tiny as Astoria seemed to think it was). Draco was smirking and shaking his head in that irksome way of his.

"I thought you two were getting it on long before last week."

"You are so crude! I shouldn't have even come!"

"Phrasing!" he said with a smirk. "Don't be embarrassed, Pans, he's a great catch. I'm just shocked that you two weren't bumping uglies long before—Oh, don't take out your wand. Fine, _making love_. Better?"

"Don't push me," Pansy said dangerously, lowering her wand. "And no, we only had our first kiss last week."

"Whoa. You operate fast."

"Don't listen to him, Pansy," Astoria's voice came from the kitchen. She walked into the dining room and set down tea for all three of them. "You can do that whenever you want. So, do you love him?"

Pansy sputtered. "What—certainly not!"

"I don't know, Pans, you're always around him," Draco offered.

"Because I work for him," she defended. "Falling in love that fast? I don't think so."

"But you've known each other for forever, haven't you?" Astoria asked, mixing some milk into her tea.

"Yes, but that was in school and… you know," Pansy said, glancing at Draco. He shrugged.

"Maybe all that hate in school was just you hiding a crush," Draco teased. Astoria gasped.

"Oh, Draco, what if she's loved him since she was a little girl, and just didn't know how to tell him?" Draco had been teasing, but Astoria was dead serious and Pansy was about to die of embarrassment.

"Oh, Astoria. Think of all the silent suffering," he said dramatically. "Loving a Gryffindor from afar. How tragic." Pansy buried her head in her hands and groaned. He continued: "Every time she called him a nasty name, it was just her way of saying 'I love you'. And, actually, that's a lot of 'I love you-s'."

"Quit it, you berk," Pansy mumbled into her hands. She certainly hadn't any love for Neville as a teenager, and the feelings had been perfectly mutual.

"Pansy, you should tell him," Astoria said, grasping her hands together. "I'm sure he feels the same way."

"Oh my goodness," Pansy said, finally standing up. "I have to get out of here. You two are insufferable."

"Just confess your feelings, Pansy!" Draco said, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Goodbye!" Pansy said loudly, and hopped into the floo.

* * *

><p>Neville had sort of hoped that Pansy would stick around today, and when she'd gone to visit Draco and Astoria he'd remembered that they actually hadn't spent time apart this past week. At all.<p>

And as nice as his little fantasy of spending a Sunday afternoon with Pansy Parkinson had been, it made him realize that he had some serious thinking to do concerning her. This… thing that they had needed to be addressed. He'd decided that he liked Pansy, quite a bit, and he wondered how this sudden progression in their relationship was going to affect them.

To be honest, he was comfortable telling her just about anything. They'd stayed up and talked all night about things that he rarely talked about with anyone, and he was fairly certain that she'd revealed a few secrets of her own in the process. She was sweet, sweeter than he'd known her to be publicly. She was smart and sharp and, to be frank, gorgeous.

It was hard to view her objectively when his mind kept wandering to how she looked when he kissed her…

He was startled out of his thoughts when his fireplace roared with green flames.

"Honey, I'm home," Pansy said with a smirk. "My goodness, you look so lonely just sitting on that couch. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing in particular," he lied. "Just tired. How're the newlyweds?"

Pansy sighed. "Oh, you know. They're themselves. They're living in a cottage on the beach, of all places. Astoria talked about it like they were going to be living on a box in the street. What have you been doing all day?"

"Just working in the atrium," he said. She took a seat next to him.

"I was going to eat. Want to tag along?" she asked, looking at him sideways.

"I'm saving my appetite. I got invited to eat dinner at the Burrow."

"Oh."

"I thought… you could come with me?"

"Really?" She was surprised and delighted at the same time. He was inviting her to a family dinner? Maybe this meant that he was serious about her. "I'd love to go, if I won't be intruding."

"You're never intruding," he laughed. "You always say that but no one really minds."

She flushed. "I'm just making sure," she replied, feeling elated. "When are we going?"

"In an hour," he said, happy at how pleased she seemed. She hopped up from the couch.

"I'll go get ready."

* * *

><p>The Burrow was just as inviting as she remembered. The house was warm and she could hear the chatter and clattering of people in the kitchen from the other room.<p>

"Hopefully we're not late," Neville muttered, dusting floo powder off of his jacket. "Sounds like everyone's already in the kitchen."

Before they could even step out of the fireplace, a short, stout woman, someone Pansy recognized as the matriarch Mrs. Weasley, appeared out of nowhere and pulled Neville into a huge hug.

"Neville, dear!" she exclaimed as she squeezed him. "I'm so happy to see you! I'm so sorry I didn't get to say hello to you at the wedding; I was so busy, you see. And guess who—…oh, who is this?" She stopped talking for a moment, seeming to notice Pansy for the first time.

"Er, this is Pansy, she works for me," Neville said nervously.

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley seemed somewhat uncomfortable, but she gave Pansy a short hug anyway. "It's good to meet you, dear. You two make yourselves comfortable, I have to finish up in the kitchen." And with that, she had swept away into the other room. Pansy looked up at Neville and frowned.

Did Mrs. Weasley not like her, she wondered? Surely she didn't believe all the stuff in the _Daily Prophet_. And it seemed strange that Neville had introduced her as "the girl who worked for him." She would have even been satisfied if he'd introduced her as a friend.

Well, it wasn't a big deal, Pansy thought as she took her jacket off and hung it on a coat rack that Mrs. Weasley had pointed to. What did she expect, for Neville to introduce her as the girl he'd been shagging? No, she was being stupid.

"Wonder what's going on in the kitchen?" she said.

"No idea," he said with a shrug. "There's always a little chaos here, though."

She could hear clattering and what sounded like frantic talking from the dining room, and she suddenly wondered if they should wait to go in. She glanced at the kitchen door and saw Hermione's head poking out. The girl's face paled and she darted back into the room.

Pansy frowned. There was definitely something off.

"Time to eat!" a voice called out from the dining room.

"Perfect," Neville said as he led her into the dining room. "Mrs. Weasley is probably the best cook I've ever met. Can you smell that? I think it's chicken."

Pansy hummed and followed him. The long table in the dining room was all set and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny Potter were setting food on the table. It seemed that the whole clan was present—the Potters, Hermione, Ron, and someone she recognized as Percy Weasley with a girlfriend or a wife. There was Bill and his wife, a quiet George, and a rugged-looking chap that she assumed was Charlie Weasley. The room was at a low-roar, and everyone was busy catching up or joking around. Pansy smiled. That was something she liked about the Weasleys—they acted like a real family.

Pansy took a seat next to Neville. She felt a tap on her shoulder and she looked up to see a familiar bushy-haired girl.

"Hi," Hermione said with a smile that was a little too bright. "I'll sit next to you. I have to tell you something…"

"Someone's coming in from the floo!" Ginny called, her voice sounding… nervous?

"What's going on?" Pansy asked, but Hermione wasn't able to answer.

"I brought some wine," a gentle voice called out. Pansy didn't even have to look to know who had just walked in the door.

Neville was just as surprised as she was. "Renee?"

"Hi, Neville," she replied, a light blush dusting her cheeks. It took her a moment to realize who was sitting next to him, and her smile faltered. "Hello, Pansy."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Oh man, Renee is back! Sorry guys. I know some of you really didn't like her. But how could I resist when everything was going so well? (muuuaahahahaha!)

Well guys, we're getting to the point where I'm thinking we're going to be finishing up in the next few chapters. I'm really excited to get to it, since it's been forever since I've worked on this! Look forward to lots of excitement, catfights, and tabloids.

I hope this chapter pleased everyone! Tell me your thoughts in the reviews. ;)


	14. Chicken for dinner

**A/N:**

Here's an important **hint**: When you see the "squawks", think of that big loud bird from the movie _Up!_

* * *

><p>Pansy wasn't sure what to say to Renee, so she let her manners do all the work. "Hello, Renee. How lovely to see you!"<p>

The blond girl just smiled as her eyes scanned the room for somewhere to sit. Hermione sat tense next to Pansy as Percy, ever the gentleman, gave her his own seat and went looking for a chair from the other room. Renee awkwardly took a seat between George and Percy's girlfriend.

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together and the sound broke through the tension. "Well, now that everyone is here I think we can start dinner! Ginny and I cooked up a lovely roast chicken. Everyone help yourselves!"

The table was in an uproar as hands flew across the table, gathering food onto plates. The talking and laughing had started up once again and Pansy felt relieved. Maybe Renee being here wouldn't be such a big deal. They really wouldn't even have to talk. She was, however, very curious about _how_ Renee had wound up at a Weasley dinner. She had a feeling that the girl beside her had the answer.

"Let's go to the bathroom before we start eating," Pansy whispered to Hermione. The other girl nodded and stood up, and Pansy followed her.

"Where're you two goin'?" Ron asked his wife, his mouth full of food.

"I'm showing Pansy to the bathroom," Hermione replied.

"What? It's right 'n th' next room, first door 'n th' righ'," he said before swallowing. He looked at Neville with a grin. "Girls always have to use the loo together." Neville laughed and both girls rolled their eyes.

"I'm trying to be hospitable, Ron. And don't talk with your mouth full, it's gross." She pulled on Pansy's arm and led her into the other room. She opened up the bathroom door, beckoned her inside, and shut the door.

"Okay. We had no idea Neville was bringing you to dinner!" Hermione said apologetically. "If we'd known we never would have invited Renee. Oh, this is just so awful…"

"Why did you invite her at all?" Pansy asked, a million questions racked up in her brain.

"Okay, well, Ginny and I got the job of shopping for this dinner," she explained, leaning on the sink. "And while we were at the market we ran into Renee and she told us all about how she left the wedding early and never called on Neville again because… well…"

"She was jealous of me?" Pansy said, unable to help the smug look that formed on her face.

"Well, not exactly in those words," Hermione laughed. "And we told her that the two of you were just friends and invited her to dinner so she could see Neville again. She just wanted another chance, I suppose."

Pansy frowned. "Neville's taken me places as just a friend before. Why is tonight any different?"

Hermione sighed. "You didn't see the look on your face when Renee walked into the dining room."

Pansy couldn't help but feel irrationally angry. Why hadn't Neville told anyone about them? But then again, it wasn't as if they were dating or anything, and she'd only just told Draco and Astoria a few hours ago.

"I wouldn't worry," she said after a second, still brewing in her anger. "Neville and I aren't dating. We aren't anything, evidently."

"Oh," Hermione said sympathetically.

"Let's go back to dinner," she said, looking into the mirror and checking her hair. "It's only one meal. And I couldn't care less about Renee."

"Alright," Hermione said uncertainly, and opened up the bathroom door.

When the two of them returned to the table, everyone was in a merry conversation. Neville smiled at her and scooted the chair back for her so she could sit. The action made her feel slightly better, but she still felt angry. Especially when she looked at the offending girl who was sitting right across the table from her. Close enough to kick her in the shins if she wanted to…

"… Neville and I met through his grandmother," Renee was saying through her laughter. "My mother said that I should meet her. Little did I know she'd be bringing Neville along!"

Neville was in probably the most uncomfortable situation he'd ever been in. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of Pansy as she sat down next to him, and it was all he could do to try and change the nature of the conversation. Unfortunately, he was surrounded by Weasleys who were very interested to know why there was a new girl in their midst.

"Your mother set you up on a date? How quaint," Pansy said through forced cheerfulness. Renee's gaze snapped to the girl across from her in a hardly-concealed glare.

Neville wished he could disappear. This really couldn't be happening. He took a page out of Ron's book and put some more food on his plate. If he could just distract himself by eating, maybe this train wreck wouldn't be happening.

"Well, I'd just gotten out of a really long relationship and she was pushing for me to get out there again," Renee continued.

"I tink iz cute," Fleur said with a smile. "Und romantic zat you have found him again." Renee blushed and gave Neville a shy smile.

Pansy was not as taken with the gesture as Fleur was. She was talking like Neville was her boyfriend and she was telling people the story of how they'd gotten together, and Neville… he wasn't doing anything about it!

"How fascinating," Pansy said, her voice tinged with antipathy. "It's just too bad that set-ups almost never turn out, isn't it?"

Neville could actually feel Pansy's anger coming off her in waves. Her face was stoic, with nothing but an ever-so-slight curl of the lip to show her displeasure. He vaguely remembered the words of Daphne Greengrass: _"I wouldn't want to cross Pansy. She's a little territorial, you know what I mean?"_

"I think they can," Renee countered. By this time, everyone at the table had fallen silent (which was unusual for the Weasleys).

"If you say so," Pansy said flippantly as she took a bite of chicken.

"Maybe you're just cynical," Renee said. "I mean, it would only make sense, especially since you and Draco Malfoy were supposed to get married. And then he ran off with a Greengrass." Her tone of voice was calm and innocent, as if she hadn't just hurled a serious insult at Pansy.

Neville thought that Pansy may actually explode. Instead, she laughed. "Do you believe everything you read in the tabloids? How cute." Neville frowned, realizing that Pansy would sooner tear another person down before letting them get to her. He liked to think that he knew her pretty well—and he thought that Pansy almost seemed _happy_ that Renee was picking a verbal fight. It would just give her an excuse to say something mean (maybe even horrible) to Renee without looking too bad.

"There's always some truth to those stories," Renee countered. "And it doesn't matter, because I don't care at all. Didn't you tell me once that you weren't _that_ Pansy Parkinson, anyway?"

It was true—when she'd first met Renee she'd told her that she only shared a name with the Pansy from the tabloids. Pansy felt her face flare up—Renee was quickly making her way to the top of her personal black list.

"This is delicious chicken, Mum," Ginny said suddenly, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. Harry nodded in agreement.

"Yes, just divine, Mrs. Weasley," Renee said. "You'll have to give me the recipe."

"Of course, dear," Molly said. Neville breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now they were finally past this awful tension. He and Pansy could go home and forget about all of it. She may be angry later, but nothing could have been worse than the moment that had just passed.

"I like to make home-cooked meals," Renee said with a glance at Neville. "There's nothing like a meal cooked with love." She was looking right at him now, and he wasn't sure what else to do but nod in agreement.

Pansy couldn't, she just _couldn't_ keep her mouth shut. The whole situation was just too ludicrous. It was so _obvious_ that Renee was trying to impress Neville somehow, and she just couldn't let it slide. "What other talents do you have, Renee? Since you seem so determined to tell us."

Renee turned pink. "I simply like to cook, that's all," she said, embarrassed. "How about you, Pansy? What talents do you have?"

"I prefer not to brag," Pansy said with what was probably the most infuriating smirk Neville had ever seen on her. And he'd been watching her smirk since his first year of school.

"Don't be so modest," Renee said, sounding a little angrier than before. "I'm sure a girl like you, with your breeding has many talents to boast. Shall we start a list?"

"If you must," Pansy said coolly. Neville was silently begging her not to continue. The rest of the table watched with voyeuristic interest; no longer was anyone trying to change the subject.

Renee's cheeks were bright red and she looked positively livid. Neville could almost relate; in school Pansy hadn't had any problem using her sharp tongue to make him feel stupid. This was, however, a completely different situation. Pansy had never been competing with him over anything.

"I'm sure you can dance, draw and sew, like all the other girls like you." Pansy raised an eyebrow. Girls like her? She was on thin ice. "I'll bet you're also awfully talented at ruining perfectly good dates," Renee said, her tone growing nasty.

"I don't think I know what you're talking about."

"You basically _stole _my date at that wedding!" the other girl said, her ears turning red.

"Don't be silly, it isn't stealing when you never had him in the first place," Pansy said with a condescending laugh. "It's sweet how you're hung up on him, though."

Everyone glanced at Neville, who was sinking deeper into his chair. The claws were out now, and he didn't really fancy the idea of getting in between the two fighting girls.

Renee stood up suddenly from her chair. "You are so—so _mean_!" she exclaimed, and Pansy rolled her eyes. What a childish display.

"Sit back down before you embarrass yourself," she said with a smirk.

Instead of sitting back down, Renee surprised Pansy by taking out her wand. Everyone at the table gasped.

"Now, ladies, stop fighting at this instant! This is a family dinner," Mrs. Weasley said. "I should have stopped this as soon as it started, but I thought the two of you would be mature enough to stop it on your own."

"I'm sure this can be solved amicably," Bill said, gently setting a hand on Renee's so she would lower her wand. "No one wants to see a fight right now."

"I do," Ron said, earning a half-hearted smack on the shoulder from a very interested Hermione. Pansy gave him a genuine smile—there _were_ things she and Ron Weasley could see eye to eye on, after all.

"As much as I agree with Ron, I don't think fighting would be appropriate," Pansy said, feeling an arrogant sense of victory. "We are at a family dinner, after all. And anyway, it wouldn't be fair, would it?"

"What are you talking about?" Renee asked, practically grating the words through her teeth.

Pansy couldn't resist making one final barb. "I'm a little older than you, is all. And by the looks of you, much more experienced."

And that was when Pansy's own pride caught up to her. All she saw was a flick of Renee's wand and a jolt of blue magic heading straight toward her. All she heard were the gasps and yells of the family around her, and one last phrase, uttered by Hermione: "She didn't cast that spell correctly!"

* * *

><p>At first, it looked to Neville like the spell hadn't had any effect on Pansy. She sat perfectly still in her chair, while everyone around her stared quietly.<p>

"Oh, my God," Renee whispered. "I'm so sorry—I just lost my temper, and…"

"Hush," said Hermione, who was now on her feet, looking closely at Pansy, who seemed as though she were completely unaware of the world around her. Her brown eyes were wide open and her mouth was slightly open. After a long, tense, moment, she cocked her head to the side.

And that was when she began to change. Neville watched in horror as her neck began to grown longer and longer, and her pale skin began to grow… feathers?

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed as everyone jumped up.

"We have to get her to St. Mungo's!" Hermione barked, taking hold of Pansy's arm, which had begun to turn into a great big wing. Her nose and mouth began to turn into a great yellow beak.

"_Sqqquuuuuaaaaaaaawwwwkk!_" her voice came out in a loud, long shriek that had everyone covering their ears. Pansy's head swiveled, so that her eyes, which had begun moving to the side of her head, could look accusingly at the girl who'd hexed her. "_Sqquuuaaaaawwwkk!_" she yelled again.

Renee began to cry. "Oh, Merlin!"

Pansy wrestled her arm (or wing, as it were) out of Hermione's grip. Neville tried to hold her back, but she had gained some kind of super-human strength. She hopped up onto the table, revealing long, orange chicken legs that had replaced her normal human legs. She towered above all of the dinner guests. She was growing taller and taller by the second, having reached at least seven feet tall.

"_Squuuaaaaawwkk! Squaaawk!_"

"Get her off the table!" "She's breaking all the dishes! Oh—" "I don't think she'll fit in the floo—!"

Neville watched as Pansy's wing seemed to fumble with something in her pocket—was she…?

"She's going for her wand!" he yelled, reaching up to try and grab it from her. He doubted that she could do that much damage with her wand at this point, but Pansy was already unpredictable as she was. He had no idea what she would do as a giant chicken.

Pansy used her wing to flap Neville's hand away. She seemed to give up on trying retrieving her wand out of her pocket and she looked back down at Renee with her beady chicken eyes. The air around them began the crackle and snap, as if they were surrounded by hot fireworks. Pansy stomped one of her chicken feet and a burst of magic flew out of nowhere and hit Renee square in the chest, blowing her back and releasing a burst of smoke.

When the smoke cleared, Renee was gone. In her place was a perfect little chicken, normal sized, flapping her wings and flying around the room in a panicked frenzy.

Pansy, as a big, deformed bird, had performed wandless, non-verbal magic to avenge herself. If Neville hadn't been so horrified at the whole situation, he'd have been amazed—Pansy was much more talented than she let on.

"Squawk," Pansy said, with an air of (dignified?) finality. She then swiveled her chicken-head to look at Neville, before stiffening up and falling right over.

The room was completely silent but for the sound of panting and that of the hen flapping around the room. Pansy lay right in the middle of the dining room table, completely passed out.

"Holy hell," Ginny was the first one to say anything, her eyes wide.

"I've never seen anything like that," Hermione said, a tinge of bewilderment in her voice. "She cast a perfect spell in that condition."

"That was bloody brilliant," Ron said, obviously trying to hold back laughter. George and Charlie began laughing hysterically while Mrs. Weasley tried to shush them.

"We've get to get her to St. Mungo's. I mean them," Neville said, remembering that Renee had also turned into a chicken and that she was running around the room like, well… a chicken with its head cut off.

It took hardly any time for them to capture the hen that was flapping around the house, and Ron, Harry, and Neville worked together to move the enormous chicken from the table and into the floo.

* * *

><p>The first thing that Pansy became aware of was the low, quiet bustling of people outside of her room. She felt peaceful and relaxed. "Hmm…" she sighed, opening her eyes ever-so-slightly. She felt like she'd just had the most wonderful nap of her whole life.<p>

"Pansy?" a voice called out, pulling her slowly out of her slumber.

"Mmyes?" she mumbled, a smile pulling at her lips. She just felt so happy and warm, like nothing in the world was wrong.

"She's awake!"

"Oh, Pansy, we were so worried about you," came a familiar feminine voice.

"Astoria, I love you," Pansy slurred, reaching her hand out to the warm voice. She wound up hitting Astoria in the face, but without any real force. Astoria grabbed her hand and smiled.

"Aw, I love you too!" Astoria's chirpy voice replied. "Look, fellas, I think she'll be just fine. She's in such a good mood."

"That's just the pain potion," said Draco, who had been pacing in the room for as long as he'd been there. "She'll be her snarky self in no time."

Pansy sighed happily. "Where's Neville?" she asked, still too lazy to open her eyes all the way.

"I'm right here," Neville said, leaning over. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel so happy," she replied.

"That's your pain medication," he explained. "You got turned into a chicken."

Pansy snorted. "I was a big chicken." Astoria giggled and swept a piece of hair out of Pansy's face.

"You were a marvelous chicken, in my opinion," she said softly.

"The best chicken?" Even Neville and Draco in their distressed states couldn't help but laugh.

"I think so," Astoria said in a soothing voice. "And we'll be here to take care of you until all your feathers are gone, alright?"

"Okay," Pansy sighed, slipping back into her restful sleep. Astoria gave both Neville and Draco a look.

"Alright, boys, now that she's woken up and you know she'll live, you should go home and take a shower."

* * *

><p>The next time Pansy woke up, she was not so happy. She sat up, feeling very distressed, as if there was something very, very wrong. She looked around the room—she was in a small, dimly lit hospital room.<p>

But that wasn't the only thing that was disturbing her. She looked down at her bare arms and nearly screamed. In fact, she did scream.

Not two seconds later Neville came bursting through the door, a cup of coffee in one hand, and he was at her side as fast as she'd ever seen him.

"What… what happened to me?" she squeaked, looking at her feather-covered arms.

"Stay calm, you got hexed," Neville said, his voice even and calm. "You're healing really fast, though. All the feathers should be gone by tomorrow."

"I have feathers. Feathers!" she cried, sweeping at the offending things. She felt her face and was relieved that she didn't feel any on that part of her body. "What happened?"

"Well… you got turned into a chicken," Neville said, trying to make it sound like it wasn't such a big deal. "It was quite brilliant, actually. I think you've made a permanent friend out of Ron Weasley."

Pansy huffed and lay back down on her bed. She was beginning to remember, now, how Renee had hexed her. She could only recollect bits and pieces of that day. "How long have I been here?"

"Just three days," Neville said. "They had you on some powerful potions."

"I slept for three days?" she asked. "How did you keep the shop open?"

Neville smiled, and for the first time she could see how tired he looked. "I used to run it without you, you know. It wasn't a big deal."

"Oh, Neville. I'm really sorry," she groaned. "I can get right back to work, I promise."

"I don't want to hear it," he said softly, leaning in closer and taking her hand. She felt her heart speed up. "I just never want to take you to the hospital again. Twice is more than enough."

Her face flushed as he looked right into her eyes. "Okay," she said. He leaned in, and she thought he was going to give her a kiss on the lips, but he planted one on her forehead instead.

"I'm going to go tell everyone you're awake," he said with a grin.

"Everyone?"

"Yeah. Draco, Astoria, the Weasleys. Everyone's been worried about you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. Pansy watched him go out the door. Despite her fatigue and the feathers that were covering patches of her body, she felt a warm, genuine smile creep onto her face.

* * *

><p>It was the next day, the day that she finally went home, that Pansy heard a knock at her door. She'd been getting all kinds of visitors, from Draco to Astoria to even Ginny Weasley. They were all bringing her little get-well gifts, which had been quite nice, even if Pansy didn't really need anything.<p>

She was relieved to see that it was just Neville. "Come on in," she said, gesturing for him to join her inside. "I'm just relieved you aren't Draco and Astoria. They've been… overwhelming," she sighed. It wasn't that she didn't feel grateful to have friends that cared, but she _did_ like her privacy.

Neville held his hands up and smiled. "I am but your humble landlord, coming over to ask if you need anything," he said, giving her a smile more charming than she knew was possible.

"I'm perfectly fine," she said, moving to her kitchen to pour herself a cup of warm tea. "Just a little tired. Do you want some tea?"

"Alright," he said, moving into the kitchen with her. "Let me," he muttered, taking the teapot from her hands and pouring them both a mug. Just to be nice, he carried both cups into the living room and set them down on her coffee table for her.

"Thanks," she said, sitting down on her couch with a big sigh. She pat the space next to her and he smiled as he sat. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's no big deal," he replied. "Anyway, you just got out of the hospital. You should take it easy."

She grinned, "Yes, I suppose I do deserve some special treatment after being in a coma for three days."

"It wasn't a coma," he laughed, leaning back into her couch and slinging his arm around the back.

"I'd like to say it was," she replied. "It sounds much more serious to be in the hospital because of a coma. It sounds less silly than being turned into a chicken."

"You could say you were in a chicken-coma," he supplied with a smirk, and she gave him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Then people will think I ate so much chicken that I passed out," she snorted. "I do have a question though."

"Hm?"

"How long did it take Renee to recover from being a chicken?"

Ah yes, Renee, he thought. "I don't think it took her long to recover," he replied, watching Pansy's face for her reaction. "Because you cast the spell correctly. It only took the counter-spell to make her better."

"Pity," Pansy said, scrunching her nose. "It took me three whole days and I still have feathers."

"Well, she _did_ hex you in front of two aurors, so she doesn't have it too good right now," he said.

"That's right! Weasley and Potter," Pansy said, relishing in the thought. Neville was almost sure she saw her hands rubbing together. "This turned out better than I could have thought."

That comment scared him a little—had she planned this from the beginning? He decided that he really didn't want to know. "I'm still impressed that you could use magic like that. As a chicken," he admitted.

"I just didn't want her to get away with hexing me," she replied lightly, taking a sip of tea. "I wasn't going to let a little thing like that get in the way."

He could see that she wasn't joking in the slightest. He'd never given Pansy's talents much thought—it wasn't that he'd assumed she was stupid, but she'd never given him the slightest hint that she was so… gifted. Her grades in school hadn't even been very good, if he remembered right. Could it be that she possessed a raw talent and an ambitious nature that made her a little scary?

"Don't worry, I won't hex you," she said with a smirk that was very Slytherin. "Well, not unless I had to…"

He laughed and leaned closer to her, choosing not to think about scenarios in which she would find it necessary to curse him. "Hang on…" He reached a hand out to pluck a tiny white feather from the side of her neck and she winced.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "I still have a few all over."

"I'm sorry," he said, placing one arm behind her, worried that she wouldn't want to be too close to him. This was (as Hermione had told him when they'd first arrived at St. Mungo's) sort of his fault. While Pansy had been undergoing her de-transformation, Hermione had deduced that there was something going on between the two of them, and she'd explained (quite lividly) that if he'd let them know about it then Renee never would have been invited to dinner in the first place.

He was surprised when Pansy scooted closer to him and closed her eyes as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He tried to draw up as much courage as he could for what he wanted to say next.

"I missed you," he murmured into her hair, half-hoping that she wouldn't hear him. It had been true; he'd missed her and worried over her for every second that she'd been in the hospital. After it was certain that she'd recover, everyone had been relieved, and recounted the incident with laughter. It was funny, he supposed. Logically, watching a girl turn into a chicken should have been hilarious, but it would be a while before he could see the humor. He'd never been more horrified than when he'd seen her grow a beak.

"You missed me? Is that what you said?" she asked, looking up at him. He felt his ears turn red.

"A little," he said quietly, unable to take his gaze from her eyes. He wanted to give her space, give her time to recover… but it was hard not to kiss her right then.

"I want… I think we should… oh, I don't know," she said, turning away with bright pink cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. Was she going to say that they should stop seeing each other? That they should stop… whatever it was they were doing?

She surprised him by pulling his collar gently to kiss him. He reacted instantly, weaving his fingers through her hair and holding her close. Within a matter of seconds they found themselves lying down on the couch, almost unable to control what had started as an innocent kiss.

"Hold on," she breathed, placing a hand on his chest. "You need to not do that. Don't kiss me like that right now." He stopped the instant she told him to, but it was only a matter of seconds before she pulled him back down again to kiss him even more passionately than before. "Alright, enough," she said again, pushing him away until he was totally confused.

"But you're the one kissing me," he said.

She seemed determined to ignore that fact. She took a breath and continued. "I know this isn't the right time," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "But I really need to know where this is going."

Neville had to shake the fog in his head away. She was right. In fact, he'd been wondering the same thing, so he lifted himself off the couch to let her sit up. She smoothed her tangled hair, trying to look as dignified as possible.

"It's just… when you introduced me to Mrs. Weasley as 'the girl that works for you' I got worried." He noticed another little feather sticking out of her arm, but he was wise enough to know that it was not the time to point it out.

"What should I have said?" he asked gently, truly wanting to know. The fact was, when it came time to introduce her, he hadn't been sure what she'd wanted him to say.

"I don't know. It's so silly, because it's not like we're… boyfriend and girlfriend or anything," she sighed.

"Do you want to be?" he asked, trying to seem as cool and smooth as possible despite his racing heart. Having Pansy as his girlfriend sounded… amazing and terrifying at the same time.

By this time, Pansy's face has turned a bright red and she took a deep breath. "Do you?" she asked, taking the easy option out of that tricky question. If she revealed to him that she really did want a real relationship and he didn't feel the same, she'd be practically crushed by shame, and then what would they do?

"Well, obviously I like you," he said with a nervous smile. "And it's a little too late to take things slow. Do you like me back?" It was such a first-year question to ask. He felt his face burn.

"I do," she said, and suddenly she felt ridiculous for holding off on this conversation. If she'd just been honest about her feelings from the start, they probably could have avoided all this trouble. They looked at each other for a moment before they both started laughing.

She felt him pull her close and he leaned back down onto her couch, pulling her on top of him. She sighed and held him close, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. She was beginning to enjoy how familiar his body was becoming to her, how comfortable everything felt. She leaned down and he kissed her gently, running his hands through her hair in a rhythmic motion.

She let her hands wander to the bottom of his shirt and started to pull it up. "Are you sure?" he asked between kisses.

"Mm-hm," she replied, unable to fight the grin on her face. He smiled right back at her as he pulled off his shirt and let it land on the ground beside the couch. She was all too happy to let her hands roam across his chest and his stomach before beginning to unbutton her own blouse.

She was about halfway down the buttons when a low, faint rumble sounded from outside her flat. Pansy looked up for a second to listen, ignoring the forlorn look on Neville's face. She heard the rumble again. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" His face was flushed but he stopped to listen, too. The rumble came back, only this time it was much louder and it shook the whole building. Pansy jumped off of the couch (and off of Neville) and began to button her shirt back up. He reached for his wand and scrambled to put his shirt back on inside-out.

"It's coming from your flat!" she exclaimed, and she followed behind him as he bolted out her open door and into his own apartment. They both watched as his fireplace burst into a great wall of green flames.

"Oh." Pansy's voice sounded quiet in the face of more rumbling. She recognized this type of entrance, and if she didn't know any better…

The flames receded, and out of the fireplace stepped none other than her dear father, looking as tall and regal as he ever had in his long, rich robes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I so sorry that I took so long to update! Please forgive me! I've been busy with finals and work and I was just plain worn out, mentally.

I just want to thank everyone who reviewed. It means so much to me that people are enjoying this! And it really motivates me. I need peer pressure to kick my butt in gear sometimes, ya know?

Anyway, I just wanted to address the subject of Renee. She's just plain crazy, and when you combine that with a jealous Pansy, disaster is bound to happen. I also just wanted to send her off in the most satisfying way possible, because everyone hated her so much! I don't know why, but hearing how much you all despised her was just so delightful.

Please review and tell me what you thought!


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